


Bad Moon Rising

by Khirsah



Series: Patron Gifts [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Young Avengers
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Sirens, Veela
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 54,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khirsah/pseuds/Khirsah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six-plus years at Hogwarts, and Billy still hasn't managed to work up the nerve to talk to perfect Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, Teddy Altman. Well, maybe seven's the charm.</p><p>...if the Heir of Slytherin doesn't turn him to stone first.</p><p><b>OR:</b> The Young Avengers/Harry Potter fusion set during Chamber of Secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Billy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erin/gifts).



“ _Billy_ ,” his mother called up the steps for the third—and, he was sure from the warning timber in her voice, dangerously close to final—time, “we’re going to be late!”

“ _I’m coming!_ ” He grit his teeth as he threw open the next drawer, bracing against the inevitable avalanche of comic books, action figures, and general detritus that seemed to collect in every nook and cranny no matter how hard he tried to keep things neat. He was never going to find the diviner in time. Merlin, it wasn’t fair. He’d spent the entire summer daydreaming of going back to school; he’d had his trunks packed and ready to go for _weeks_ now.

And of course, of course, the moment it was time to go to catch the train…he realized he wasn’t ready at all.

“ _Billy!_ ”

“Come on, come on,” Billy muttered as he dove through the messy drawer, shoving broken quills and mismatched socks aside. Gretl gave a soft trill from her perch, watching him with gold-rimmed eyes. “Ugh, I know,” he said, tossing aside an old dungbomb Tommy had sent two summers ago as a joke. “But if I got rid of things, how would I ever be able to find them when I needed them?”

Gretl trilled again, and he shot her a look. “Stop judging me, please.”

Below, he heard the measured not-quite-a-slam of the front door and a tell-tale tread as his mother moved toward the stairs. It wasn’t quite a stomp, but it wasn’t _not_ a stomp, either. Fuck.

“Okay, you can go back to judging me,” Billy said, shoving the drawer closed and popping to his feet. He looked around the war zone of his bedroom with a helpless sigh. It _had_ been clean this morning, when he’d floated from sleep with the happy realization that today, finally, he’d be catching the Hogwarts Express back to school. Now everything had been dragged out from beneath his bed and the bowels of his closet. Drawers had been emptied. The desk was ransacked. His wardrobe hung open, contents strewn across the floor. He’d turned the entire place upside-down, and _still_ he hadn’t managed to find what he was looking for.

And he was out of time.

He winced as the bedroom door swung open. “ _William_.”

That? Was bad. That was really, really bad. “I can explain,” he said, turning to meet his mother’s eyes. She had on her far-seeing spectacles and her very best robes, under which she wore the dove grey Muggle suit she’d strip down to when they reached the station. Her dark brows were pulled together and her lips were pressed into a thin line as she deliberately swept her gaze across the drifts of old robes and books and letters and comics…then met his eyes again.

A single brow arched.

Billy flushed and ducked his head. “It’s probably not a very _good_ explanation,” he admitted. “But I do have one.”

“It can wait; the train will not.”

He looked back over his room, as if a final, desperate scan could reveal what an hour’s frenzied searching had not. “But…”

“Billy.” His mother held open the door for him, pointedly stepping aside so he could precede her. “Whatever it is, I promise you it isn’t more important than your continued education. Or your continued freedom, because I will ground you for _life_ if you make your brother miss the train his first year. Now _move_.”

Billy opened his mouth to argue…then sighed, giving up. He was out of time and out of luck. There was no point in asking if she could _accio_ it for him. As a Muggle specialist, his mother strongly believed in using alternative methods for everyday life—which essentially translated into _no magic_ for ordinary tasks other households took for granted. Billy lived in the only pureblood home in London where he and his brothers were expected to make their beds and wash the dishes _themselves_. It was so unfair.

Life was unfair.

He was being dramatic, but _whatever!_ Still unfair!

“Billy,” his mother said, that warning note back in her voice.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered under his breath. He lifted one hand, barely waiting until he felt the whisper-light weight of Gretl taking up perch on his curled fingers before he was stomping out into the hall. The paintings that lined the stairwell muttered to each other as he stalked past, but he ignored them. They’d been _muttering_ all summer, ever since he and his brother Daniel had come back from school with stories of Harry freaking Potter and all the craziness that seemed to follow in his wake.

His father was outside, loading the last of the luggage into the cab. The cabbie kept stealing glances as massive trunk after trunk was packed into the modest-sized boot, but he held his tongue (though his eyes, Billy couldn’t help but notice, had gone comically wide). Andy and Daniel had already piled in, elbowing each other as they fought for the window. The day was clear and hot.

And the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take him back for his final year of school.

Billy sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, beginning to smile. Okay, so Tommy would have his head for forgetting the diviner. Whatever. There were other, better ways to go about their plan. There was a whole school of people who could help them, too—Kate and Eli and David and _all_ the friends he barely got to see over the summer. And if he got really desperate, there were even adults, too.

He startled when his mother snapped the door shut behind them and cast him a steady, significant look.

…yeah, maybe best not include adults after all.

Billy hurried down the steps to squeeze his way into the cab, shoving aside Daniel with a single bony elbow and holding Gretl carefully aloft as his brothers tried to elbow him back. Dad slid into the front seat and Mother slipped in on Billy’s other side, closing the door with a decisive _snap_.

“Good morning,” she said, leaning close to yell through the plastic divider. “Could you take us to the train station?”

She began to lean back, satisfied, then suddenly pressed forward again. “Oh,” his mother added, tapping a nail against the clear barrier. “And would you step upon it, please?”

“Uhhh. Right.” The cabbie adjusted the small box sitting on his dash, and bright green numbers appeared. The car drifted slowly into the flow of traffic.

Billy tipped his head toward his mother’s. “I think it’s _step on it_ ,” he murmured, _sotto_.

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Think so.”

“Oh.” She considered that, then suddenly laughed and gave a wry shake of her head. “Well, I suppose you’re the expert. Though Merlin knows _I’m_ the one who should know these things by now.”

Billy grinned back, ignoring his brothers as they began trying to buckle themselves in with a single seatbelt. He was going back to _Hogwarts_ ; there was nothing that could ruin today. “And when we see Tommy,” he murmured to Gretl, rubbing a finger along the pygmy owl’s tiny brow and grinning when she pressed into the caress with a flutter, “we can tell him to suck it, yeah?”

She trilled in response.

“…yeah, I’m sorry,” the Muggle said, voice rising in pitch with each word. “But is that an _owl_ back there?”

***

The station was swarming with kids when Billy finally pushed through the magical barrier, shouted greetings and exclamations almost loud enough to drown out the rumble of the engine. He froze for a moment just to take it all in—the dizzying swoop of color, the kids in states of half-dress, familiar striped ties waving like banners—before Andy came barreling through the barrier behind him, clipping Billy’s heels with the front of his luggage rack.

“Ow!” Billy snapped, turning on his brother. In her delicate silver cage (where he’d reluctantly placed her after the Muggle cabbie had begun shouting about health violations or something), Gretl ruffled her feathers and huffed a musical sigh. “Watch where you’re going, jerkface.”

“Watch where you’re _standing_ , buttmunch,” Andy sing-songed back, but he was pulling to a stop next to Billy, eyes widening more and more with each second that ticked by. He’d come to Station 9 ¾ many times over the last few years to wave goodbye to Billy, and then Billy-and-Daniel, but this was the first time he’d actually be boarding the Hogwarts Express himself.

Billy began to grin, warming at the expression on his little brother’s face. “It’s even cooler inside,” he promised.

Andy blinked up at him, visibly overwhelmed—then began to grin back. But before he could say anything, Daniel came barreling into _both_ of them, ruining rare moment of brotherly bonding. “Hey!” Andy squawked, trying to leap away.

Gretl gave a warning trill and Billy sighed in disgust, pushing his trolley forward and leaving his brothers to take swipes at each other. Their parents had already said their goodbyes near the car—Andy’s request, since he didn’t want to start his first year trying to dodge any embarrassingly public scenes—and with Daniel begrudgingly taking Andy under his wing, Billy was free to load up his luggage and find his friends.

If they didn’t find him first.

And considering one of those friends was Tommy? They almost always found him first.

“ _Hey, dorkface!_ ”

Billy ducked out of pure instinct, but he wasn’t fast enough to escape the solid _smack_ of Tommy’s hand catching him lightly upside the head. It seemed like no matter _how_ quickly he tried to dart away, there was no avoiding the stupid Quidditch star’s stupidly fast reflexes. Billy twisted around to glower at his friend, but Tommy was already darting around the trolley to croon at Gretl, prying open her delicate cage and lifting her free before Billy could protest. “Hey, pretty girl,” he said in a low voice, grinning when she closed her eyes and ruffled her feathers in greeting. “How was your summer? Oh, and you too, Billy.” He glanced over, then winked.

Billy sighed. “You’re such an asshole,” he said without any real heat. “Help me with my trunk?”

“Sorry,” Tommy said, skipping back a step. “My hands are full with Gretl. You know,” he added to Billy’s owl, tone serious, “you should consider switching owners. I’ve got his stupid face, after all, and you’d look _much_ better in red-and-gold.”

“Stop trying to corrupt my owl,” Billy protested, even as he hoisted up his trunk. Wow, it was heavy. What exactly had he packed in this thing again? “It’s never going to work. She’s loyal to the, _oof_ , end.”

Tommy smirked. “Don’t you listen to the Sorting Hat, loser? You’re not _loyal_. You’re sneaky and conniving and terrible and destined to lose the House Cup yet again.”

Billy shifted the improbable weight of his trunk, frowning at his blood brother over it. They’d met their first year at Hogwarts—Billy from a long line of Purebloods, Tommy from a Muggle family that _still_ wasn’t exactly sure where their son wandered off to for most of the year. It’d been a shock to look up across the lurching carriage to see his mirror image staring back, pale where he was dark but otherwise identical. It’d been even more of a shock when the other boy had opened his mouth and pure brassy, Manchester bray came tumbling out, every other word a curse.

They still hadn’t managed to pry out more than a week, “Well, yes, you were adopted after… _After_ ,” from Billy’s parents (Tommy’s were completely useless), but they were getting closer to figuring out who their birth mother was. And after six years of putting up with Tommy—and watching as Tommy gentled into someone almost worth getting along with for more than five minutes at a time—they’d almost reached a point where they didn’t rub each other raw.

Almost.

“I thought we weren’t going to get into any of that crap this year?” Billy said. Tensions between Houses were at an all-time high. “You’d leave it in your Common Room and I’d do the same.”

Tommy scowled. “You should just defect too,” he said. “You’re practically the only decent Slytherin in the castle. Everyone knows that the rest of your lot are all dark-crazed followers of—”

Billy growled and stalked away…as much as the ponderous weight of his trunk would let him stalk, anyway. Trust Tommy to dig into open wounds at the very first opportunity. “We agreed not to talk about it,” he said, aware of his twin trotting along at his heels. Billy shifted his grip and moved doggedly toward where luggage was being stored. “Which means we’re _not going to talk about it._ And besides, I— Oh, thanks,” he added, cutting off his tirade and blinking in surprise when the trunk was lifted easily from his hands.

Like it weighed nothing at all.

America gave him a one-shouldered shrug, hoisting his trunk up to join the others. Her hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail and she was barely breaking a sweat, even as she hoisted up trunk after trunk. “You looked like a snail about to get crushed by its own shell,” she said. “Hey, Tommy.”

“Hey, yourself. Tell Billy he needs to defect to Gryffindor.”

Her dark gaze moved between them, then she snorted. “Fuck no,” she said, turning away to grab the bags off another unsuspecting kid. “I’m not getting involved. See if you can loop the Princess into your scheme… _if_ you can track her down.”

“Right,” Tommy agreed cheerfully enough. He slung an arm around Billy’s neck, shoving Billy’s (also heavy) travel satchel into his arms before steering him toward the nearest carriage. “See you around then.”

America just grunted; Tommy shook his head. “I’m pretty sure she likes you more than she likes me.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone likes me more than they like you,” Billy shot back, looping the leather handles over one arm and freeing up his other hand for Gretl to flit over to. “Case in point.”

“Your stupid crush likes me a _lot_ more than he likes you,” Tommy pointed out, letting go of Billy as he vaulted up into the waiting train. “Of course,” he added, turning in the doorway to grin down at him— _cruelly_ , because Tommy could be such an asshole sometimes— “that’s not hard since he barely knows you exist. And hey, pop quiz: _why_ does he barely know you exist?”

Billy climbed up after him, scowling. “Is this going to be multiple choice or long-form essay?” he muttered.

“Because you practically _run away_ every time he comes around.”

“See, it’s not actually a quiz if you’re going to answer the question for me.” But Tommy wasn’t really listening—he had already plowed on ahead, leading the way to their usual compartment. Billy sighed and followed in his wake, wending his way past eagerly shouting kids. He glanced out an open door just in time to spot both of his brothers making their way onto the train—great, okay, he could tell his mother he’d seen them safely aboard without actually fibbing—then barely dodged a swooping paper airplane (complete with industriously buzzing propeller) as it dove by.

Billy glanced over his shoulder to watch it go, but quickly refocused when he nearly ran into Tommy, who had stopped just before their usual door. “Sorry,” Billy mumbled; Tommy just waved him off. He was talking in a low voice with David, who’d already changed into his robes and looked—somehow, like always—immaculate. The prefect badge was pinned to his breast, and he was laughing as he knocked Tommy’s hands aside every time Billy’s brother tried reaching for it.

“Why don’t you get your own, Speedy?” David said. “Maybe that way I can stop having to look the other way while you cause trouble.”

“You never look the other way, _Brainy_ ,” Tommy sassed back. “Mostly because you’re usually neck-deep in it with me.”

“Which, I’ll remind you, is almost always _your_ fault. Hi, Billy,” David added.

Billy shifted the bag on his arm and gave an awkward little wave. “Hey. How was your summer?”

David shrugged. “I can’t complain. I’ll try to come back to visit after we’ve got everyone settled. Eli and Kate are running a tight ship this year. And _you_ ,” David added to Tommy, snagging his elbow and dragging him further down the aisle. He lowered his voice as he went, so Billy could only make out a trailing, “need to keep your eyes open for Harry Potter and his…”

Billy tipped his head, watching them go and feeling an odd weight settle inside at the way he had been so casually excised from the conversation. Sure, David was more Tommy’s friend than his—and fine, it really wasn’t any of his business—but sometimes…

Sometimes it seemed as if his friends kept things from him on purpose. As if they gently and subtly reoriented their conversations whenever one drifted to anything more serious than Quidditch or the House Cup or who was pairing off with who. Like somehow, despite six years together, over the last strange year with the Boy Who Lived settled in their midst Billy had become the enemy.

And that? That sucked.

He frowned down at his feet, ignoring Gretl’s soft chirrup, and reached blindly for the doorknob. Billy pushed inside the train compartment he and his friends usually claimed and slung his bag blindly toward the leftmost seat…barely missing clipping _Teddy Altman_ on its way.

Teddy looked up with a start, head poking through the collar of his shirt. He had his school slacks on, Muggle jeans bundled up at his feet, but his chest was bare and golden-tan and _muscular_ , abs tightening as he paused mid-pulling on his white undershirt. His blond hair was tousled, silver earrings catching the light.

His eyes, when they met Billy’s, were unfairly blue.

“Oh, hey,” Teddy said, rich Scottish brogue lilting as he kicked one corner of his mouth up into a welcome smile. “Sorry—Tommy said you guys wouldn’t mind if I swapped over in here.”

His yellow-and-black tie was wound around one hand and wrist like boxer’s tape. A dimple was flashing at the corner of his mouth. He was _still mostly naked and talking to him_ and _oh Merlin_ Billy was not in any way prepared for the desperate swooping of his stomach, or the way his heart began to pound triple-time or…

Or pretty much anything that always, always seemed to happen if the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain so much as looked his way.

“Um,” he said, because _words_. But none seemed to want to come. His tongue was cleaving to the roof of his mouth, and Teddy’s muscles rippled as he finally tugged down his shirt, and oh wow, hey, no, Billy’s brain was officially _done_.

So he did the only thing he could reasonably be expected to do when faced with the half-naked man of his dreams: he fumbled blindly for the door, stepped back out into the aisle, and slammed it shut behind him.

Billy stared blankly at the closed door for a long, horrified moment. His cheeks were flushed hot; his pulse was racing. His thoughts felt like bludgers and, oh Merlin, _what had he done?_ Teddy probably assumed he was absolutely mental now.

Gretl gave a soothing coo as she flitted to his shoulder, tiny beak brushing through the hairs at his temple. Billy let his head drop forward, eyes squeezing shut as waves and waves of hot mortification…and slow, insidious, creeping _interest_ …washed through him. Impossibly gorgeous, impossibly kind, impossibly _impossible_ Teddy Altman was in his train car right now, half-dressed. He was maybe going to stay and hang out for the entire trip. That meant hours of sitting in a cramped train car with Teddy, trying not to stare at him, trying to untangle his tongue enough to talk, trying to look like something other than the utter and complete dork he was.

There was no way he’d succeed.

No, even worse. There was no way he’d make it through alive. Just one smile and he’d melt to the floor, and Tommy would be there to witness (and mock) the whole thing and, aw, _crap_.

Billy gave a choked, almost-hysterical laugh and resisted the urge to bang his forehead against the door. “You may not realize this, Gretl,” he murmured as the Hogwarts Express sounded its warning whistle. “But I am so, so unbelievably screwed.”


	2. Teddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I am taking liberties with both Harry Potter and Young Avengers lore. I won't say that every inconsistency with canon is deliberate (it has been a long time since I've read Harry Potter), but I beg your tolerance. <3
> 
> As always, this is for my awesome patron. <3 <3 <3

Teddy couldn’t help but notice that Billy was acting weird. 

Well. Weirder than usual. And it was starting to get uncomfortable.

He tried his best not to actively annoy the other boy for the first part of the journey. He kept to his corner of the train compartment, he chatted with Tommy but didn’t monopolize his attention, and after about an hour or so of Billy staring down at the floor and giving them all the silent treatment, he even retreated behind a book.

He just wished he understood what it was that had Billy so _angry_ with him. It wasn’t bloodism—he was sure of that much. Tommy and Kate were just as Muggle-born as everyone assumed Teddy to be, and Billy seemed _fine_ with them. It wasn’t some House bias, either. He’d spotted Billy and Cassie chatting easily toward the tail end of last year, and pretty much everyone knew Kaplan had more friends in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw than his own House.

He didn’t have some weird thing against Quidditch players, and he wasn’t, like, anti-Scots or anything. He’d never seemed particularly homophobic, and there was no way he knew what Teddy really was, despite a very close call two years back.

Which meant, Teddy decided as he watched Billy over the rim of his book, he just didn’t like _Teddy_. There was nothing else that it could be. There was just something about him, his personality, the way he was down to his core, that Billy could barely stand to be around…and considering Teddy had been nursing a crush on the smart-mouthed Slytherin since the day he’d pulled his unresisting body from the lake and breathed air into his water-logged lungs, that was a serious blow.

That…that just _sucked_.

The train swayed as it took a turn, chugging through the lowland countryside. Squashed against Tommy’s left—rather than seated comfortably in all that empty space next to Teddy—Billy shifted and muttered beneath his breath. He was visibly uncomfortable, hands folded into the ends of his robe, shoulders hunched forward as Tommy and David took up the majority of the bench seat he unwisely shared.

 _You know_ , Teddy almost said, _you’d be a lot more comfortable if you came to sit next to me_. He actually opened his mouth to say it, his own slow temper beginning to rise at the way he’d been so obviously excluded…

…but then Billy glanced up to meet his eyes—big and dark and full of something Teddy couldn’t hope to understand—and both of them immediately looked away.

 _Coward_ , Teddy chided himself, even as Billy suddenly stood—yanking the end of his robe from beneath Tommy’s careless foot. _You are such a useless coward._

“I’m going to,” Billy began, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. He didn’t look at Teddy again as he slipped from the train car and slid the door shut behind him.

Teddy immediately dropped his book. “Do you want me to go?” he asked, cutting right to the point. There was no telling how long Billy would be gone for. “Because seriously, it was nice of you to ask me to join you guys, but I can go. Not _all_ of my friends graduated.”

Tommy and David both looked up from the pile of scrolls they’d been sifting through, expressions opposite sides of the same coin. “What?” Tommy demanded. Then, immediately: “Oh. _No_. No, no, you’re cool. I mean, hello, boring, but I’m used to Brainy here, so if you want to bury your nose in a book, then I guess I’ll tolerate it. What are you reading?” he added before Teddy could reply, reaching over to snatch the paperback from Teddy’s lax grip. “Anything good?” He started flipping through the pages rapidly.

“This is about Billy,” David murmured, tipping his head toward his friend.

Tommy looked up, pages still fanning between his fingers. “What? Oh! You mean the whole silent treatment thing?”

“I just think he’d probably be more comfortable if I wasn’t here,” Teddy said.

Tommy shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “Probably.”

And that…that shouldn’t have been such a blow. He already had a pretty good idea that Billy disliked him; there was no reason that having direct confirmation should somehow make it hurt all the more. “Well,” Teddy said. “Okay then.”

“That doesn’t mean you should _go_.” Tommy snapped the book shut and handed it back, offering one of his slow, easy grins. They’d only really gotten to know each other over the last year, when Tommy had swapped electives and ended up in Teddy’s Care of Magical Creatures class. It had been an interesting year. They’d bonded over a sick kneazle who’d since taken to following them both around the grounds. Before then, he’d just been that weird Gryffindor beater who shared a face with Billy. Now he was…if not quite a _friend_ , at least something warmer than an acquaintance. 

(There had to be a word out there for unexpected kneazle co-parent. Maybe something Japanese?)

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” Teddy said doggedly. “I don’t want him to have to spend the entire trip back to school staring at his sneakers and thinking of ways to murder me.”

Tommy snorted. “Oh, he’s not. _Believe_ me. If anything, he’s—”

David elbowed his side, _hard_ , without batting an eye.

“—not thinking at all. Not a big fan of thinking, my not-brother. It’s the Slytherin in him. All the evil dribbled out of his ears and he hasn’t found anything else to fill that gaping hole in his skull. Hey, _speaking_ of gaping holes…”

“If you’re not comfortable,” David interrupted smoothly in that way he had; Tommy just rolled his eyes and flopped back against the bench seat, grin wide and crooked, “you should feel free to go. We want you here. I’m sure Billy does too. But it’s more important that you don’t feel like you _have_ the stay for the entire trip.”

Tommy kicked out a leg, nudging Teddy’s knee with his green sneaker. “Yeah, okay, what he said. But when you realize everyone else is super-lame, come on back to join us. With Kate and Eli acting as Head Girl and Head Boy, our posse is running at a serious deficit. The invitation’s open any time.”

And that warmed his heart more than anything. It was funny the way Tommy could do that—languid openness, like it wasn’t a big deal. For someone like Teddy, carefully guarding a secret like his, that easy _acceptance_ was more important than anything. “Thanks,” he said earnestly, even as he rose. Teddy tucked his book under his arm and snagged his plaid-weave satchel. Back in her little silver cage, Billy’s owl—no bigger than his fist—trilled sadly. “I’ll take you up on it. Later, guys. Later, you,” he added to Gretl, brushing a finger along the bars of her cage. She hopped closer to nudge against him, almost as shameless as their kneazle.

“Bye, Teddy,” David said, already turning back to Tommy.

“Later, _loser_ ,” Tommy teased, offering a broad wink before lounging back against the far wall, one arm casually flung across the seat. “Okay, so, _how_ are we going to sneak in the…”

Teddy quietly shut the door behind him.

It was strange how easy it was to breathe now that he no longer had to worry about Billy coming back. He rotated his shoulders, trying to throw off that uncomfortable weight of awkward silence. Later, after the feast when he was once again alone in the quiet safety of his bed, he’d take the time to be gutted by how obviously the Slytherin boy disliked him. After years of catching his eye across the crowded hall, after the day by the lake that had started this all, he’d always hoped—

Well, anyway. Whatever he’d hoped, he’d been dead wrong. Obviously.

And now he had to find someplace new to while away the hours until he was back at Hogwarts.

Sighing quietly, Teddy turned and headed back toward the rear of the train. Most of his friends had been a year older—which was why Tommy had taken pity on him in the first place. But it wasn’t like he didn’t know anyone else. Or maybe, he thought as he passed closed door after closed door, he’d find some quiet corner and try to center himself before the whole mad whirl of seventh year started up. He’d been finding it harder and harder to keep his form lately; knowing his family was being investigated, that someone could discover what they really were at any moment and have him bounced out of school so near the end, had him scrambling for control in a way he hadn’t since he was a first year.

 _Maybe this is a good thing,_ Teddy assured himself, passing through the accordion-shaped connector between two cars. Maybe it was even for the best. Maybe the lack of distraction Billy Kaplan represented could even be exactly what he needed to pass his NEWTS with flying colors and prove himself to the wider wizarding world. Maybe—

He threw open the door to the next car over and flew head-first into someone hurrying the opposite way. Teddy dropped his book and bag, one hand slapping against the compartment wall to keep his balance, the other snagging the other boy’s elbow as their chests jostled together. 

_And maybe I should watch where I’m bloody going_ , Teddy thought with a breathless sort of humor, looking down with an apology already on his lips…

…just as Billy lifted his face, barely a breath of sunlight between them.

Teddy froze, eyes going wide. They were _so close_ he could feel the heat being cast from the other boy’s body, could smell the peculiar blend of chocolate and laundry detergent and limes. Billy let out an unsteady breath, and oh bloody hell, he could _feel_ that hot gust against his parted lips.

Even worse, he could feel the control of his shape slipping like water between his fingers in response—could see Billy’s eyes going _wide_ as a shining silver light began to bathe his upturned face. 

Teddy bit the inside of his mouth and grabbed control of himself, yanking back his assumed form before it could fully slip. The light immediately died. The passage went dim. He practically pushed Billy away as he scrambled back, dragging his fingers through his hair and refusing to meet those stunned dark eyes.

 _Fuck_. Fuck, only a few more seconds and he would have been royally screwed. As it was, he couldn’t be sure exactly what Billy had seen, and that churning anxiety made his words sharper than he intended. “ _Careful_ ,” Teddy snapped, bending to grab his bag. He didn’t spot his book right away—didn’t _care_. He had to get out of there.

He pushed past Billy, slamming open the opposite door. Their whole…moment…had taken place at the small accordion passage connecting two cars, which was its own sort of blessing. No one (except Billy) could have possibly seen him lose control.

“Where are you,” Billy began, turning. He sounded dazed. “Aren’t you going to…”

But Teddy was already fleeing; his heart pounded hard and fast, stuck somewhere high in his throat. He didn’t look back, bag slamming against his thigh as he picked up speed, running through the aisle as if Billy and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and You Know Who himself were all at his heels.

If he wasn’t careful, maybe they would be.

_So close, that was so close, I can’t ever let it get that close…_

This was why he was so careful. This was why he couldn’t let himself ever, _ever_ truly relax. Maybe it was a good thing Billy Kaplan apparently couldn’t stand him; if he felt even a fraction for Teddy what Teddy felt for him, then it would be all too easy to let him in…and that way lay disaster.

In the end, maybe it was better to be alone.

***

He stuck with that thought—or maybe that thought stuck with _him_ —all the way through the long ride past the hill country, past the lowlands, and back into the Scotland of his youth. Ever since his mum had taken a job down south, Teddy had been spending his summers walking along the white cliffs and dreaming of home. Dover was closer to the kind of land his mother’s people had come from, but despite everything, Teddy had always felt more kinship for the lochs than the open seas.

There was just something settled and soothing about the wide, glassy pools they passed as the Hogwarts Express dove through the soaring Highlands. They glinted like mirrors in the dying light, darker depths whispering of secrets just waiting to be unlocked.

He shivered, leaning out the cramped luggage car window, and strained to catch sight of his chosen home as Hogwarts came into view. The castle towered above the countryside, huge and imposing with its dark turrets and windows twinkling with candlelight. In the gathering twilight, those glittering windows looked almost like eyes—as if the castle were blinking sleepily awake, rousing itself from a deep slumber as the students finally (finally) returned to fill its quiet halls.

The passenger cars erupted into cheers as the Express pulled around the last bend, castle in full view. The lake spread wide and glassy within its shadow, and to the far north, the forest itself seemed to sway in greeting. The train passed by the Quidditch pitch on its way to Hogsmeade station, and another roar erupted from the line of cars behind him—loud and raucous enough to relax the stiff set of his shoulders and bring an answering smile to his lips.

Home. He was _home_.

That was enough to tear away the last lingering fears that clouded his thoughts. That was enough to fix bloody _everything_.

Teddy was first down the moment the train pulled to a stop, bags already in his arms. He dropped to the station platform, already looking about. Hagrid was in his usual place, towering big and hairy and wonderfully familiar as he waited for the first years to be ushered over to him and the scores of little boats that would take them to their first Sorting. Just thinking about it— _remembering_ his own first time, frightened yet so very determined not to let it show—loosened the last lingering tension. Teddy paused on the station steps and dragged in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the familiar scents. The cold, clean air.

The whisper of possibility.

Hogwarts. Somehow, someway, despite all the obstacles, he was standing here ready for his final year at _Hogwarts_. There was nothing that could take that kind of joy from him. All he could do was stand on the platform and stare across the rooftops of Hogsmeade and grin like a bloody loon.

“Oi, Altman.”

The elbow in his ribs was there and gone again before Teddy could slap Tommy away. “Hey now,” Teddy protested with a laugh. “I was having a moment.”

“Sucks to your moment.” Tommy’s grin was wide and sharp. “And sucks to you. You never came back.”

He shrugged a shoulder, feeling suddenly awkward again. “Uh, well, I guess I lost track of time. I’ll ride with you guys on the way back, yeah?”

Tommy’s smile didn’t falter; if anything, it widened, going sly, as if he was reading a hell of a lot more than Teddy had intended in those words. “Sure, sure,” he said. “Or you can ride in the carriage with me and David so I can catch you up on our plans for the year. Since you punked out on us earlier; you owe us,” he added in a sing-song.

Teddy just waved him off, laughing. “Fine,” he said. “I _suppose_ I’m willing to tolerate you. Which carriage?”

“Number thirteen. Be right there,” Tommy added, spinning on his heel. “Left my shit on the train. Hey, DAVID!” His bellow carried across the happy cries and excited chaos that filled the air. Teddy watched him go, the ends of his unknotted red-and-gold tie trailing behind him. Then, shaking his head, he hoisted his bag and made his way through the crowd toward the waiting carriages. Other seventh years were claiming their spots in the front of the long line, and Teddy smiled a greeting or two as he wove his way through the kids. He was hyperaware of the snort of breath and stomp of hooves, but he respectfully kept his eyes down until he made it to number thirteen. What he assumed must be David’s bags were already piled on top, so he simply nudged them over to make room for his.

Then, everything in place, Teddy took a deep breath and turned to face the thestral.

“Hey there,” he said in a low voice, moving to meet its slitted yellow eyes. It blew out a breath and shook its head, leathery wings rustling against the curve of its back. It was just like Teddy remembered from that time, years ago, when he’d first spotted the strange creatures hitched to the waiting carriages. The sight had been enough to make him suck in a breath, but he hadn’t been afraid. The way the thestral had tilted its head to look at him, eyes alien and yet familiar all at once, had soothed him in a way nothing else could. He wasn’t sure how many of his fellow second years had been able to see the mounts, but he’d felt a shiver of gratitude that _he_ could look into those yellow eyes and read the wealth of years there. 

The sadness of a magical beast yoked to serve wizardkind. Or, hell, was he reading too much into things again?

“I just really wanted to say thank you,” Teddy said with quiet respect.

“Um…okay? For what?”

The reply was so unexpected that for one stunned moment, Teddy actually thought the _thestral_ had answered him. Then the thestral tossed its head again and Teddy spotted _Billy_ standing on the other side of the carriage. His hand was lifted, palm pressed against the thestral’s opposite shoulder. His dark eyes were locked on Teddy’s.

Teddy swallowed, feeling a sudden desperate heat rising to his cheeks. The thestral shook his head, almost as if laughing at him. _Fuck_.

“Uh,” he said, dragging his fingers through his hair. _Awkward_. God, this was so, so awkward. “Um, hey. Sorry. I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to, um…” He hesitated, then dropped his eyes to where Billy’s hand rested against the grey flank. The thestral pushed its nose against Teddy’s chest and he automatically dropped a hand to its bony muzzle.

“Oh. _Oh_. Well. Yeah. Okay, I get that.” Billy dropped his gaze, a flush traveling up his cheeks, his ears. His hand remained pressed against the thestral’s shoulder, thumb raking back and forth, back and forth. “Are you…going to be joining us?”

Teddy swallowed and turned his face away. “I don’t have to,” he said. “In fact, maybe I should—”

“ _No_ ,” Billy interrupted before he could do more than a jerk a thumb over his shoulder. He suddenly lunged forward, hand darting through the trailing reins and grabbing Teddy’s sleeve. His cheeks were just as bright red as Teddy’s, but he doggedly held on tight. “I mean, it’s okay. You can stay, if you want. I didn’t mean to, you know…chase you off earlier.”

“You didn’t,” Teddy lied quickly.

Billy just squinted at him in disbelief.

Teddy cleared his throat. “…not exactly. I mean. _Look_.” He gently tugged free, feeling stupidly helpless. His heart was pounding too hard in his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tolerate me just for your— For Tommy’s sake.”

“Tolerate you?”

“Like I told Tommy, I’m not exactly friendless. And if you don’t want me around, I don’t _have_ to be dogging you guys’ heels everywhere.”

“Don’t want you around?”

Teddy let out a huff of breath, halfway between humor and hurt. “You know, offering to go fuck off would be a lot easier if you weren’t just repeating everything I said,” he pointed out. The thestral shook its head again, reins clacking merrily. “See? Even he agrees.”

Billy blinked up at him owlishly. Perched on his shoulder, so tiny Teddy had almost missed her, his actual owl just cocked her head and gave a little trill. “Uh…um. Wait, sorry, I’m recal-something my brain. Recalminating? No. It’s a Muggle word. Recalibring?”

“Recalibrating?” Teddy offered tentatively.

Billy snapped his fingers. “That one. Recalibrating. With the machines.”

“Right.” He shifted, feeling awkward. All around them, students were streaming into their carriages; a few gave them curious looks as they passed. Teddy couldn’t figure out why until he realized most of them wouldn’t be able to see the thestral standing between them. To those kids, he and Billy were just standing there like complete dorks, hands lifted halfway to a Vulcan salute—no leathery flank, no soothing in and out of breath. No safe barrier between him and the boy who didn’t drown.

Billy seemed to be noting the same strange looks. “Maybe we should get inside?” he offered. Then, tentatively: “I don’t really mind having you around.” He paused. “That may have come out badly. I mean, you know, hey. You seem nice; we should, um, hang. Or something.”

Teddy laughed, pulling back. He could feel the pleased curl deep in the pit of his stomach, responding the way he always seemed to whenever Billy so much as looked at him. He wished he understood it. Was it because he’d saved Billy’s life? Was it because—half-drowned and barely conscious—Billy had seen his true form? Was it something a hell of a lot simpler, and a hell of a lot more complicated?

From some of what his mum had told him, it could just be _pheromones_.

Whatever it was, whatever it could mean, those seven simple words ( _I don’t really mind having you around_ ) were enough to make his toes curl.

“Don’t oversell it, Billy,” he tried to tease, arms crossing over his chest, and Billy ducked his head and scuffed his shoe on the cobbled street. _Adorably_. On his shoulder, Gretl gave an amused hoot and brushed her beak through messy dark hair.

“Or, you know, you could run for it,” Billy mumbled. They were nearly the only ones still outside the carriages; Tommy and David had clearly stood them up. “If you listen to Tommy, I’m such a loser no one would blame you.”

 _Or maybe_ , Teddy thought, that insidious coil of warmth growing, expanding, _they set us up_. Wishful thinking, but it made his smile widen. “Nah,” he said, giving the thestral one last, grateful pat before moving around to the carriage. He threw open the door and climbed in, leaning over to push open the opposite door for Billy. There was a wild, thoughtless moment where he almost reached out to offer Billy a hand up…but he came to his senses before he could do anything so daft. Instead, he settled back in the comfortable bench seat and pulled his door shut with a _snap_ as Billy clambered in with him. “I’m already here, aren’t I? May as well stick around.”

“I’ll, um, try not to just stare at my feet the whole time again,” Billy said.

“Better not,” Teddy agreed. There was a call from the head of the line, and the sound of creaking wheels. Their carriage gave a lurch a few seconds later, and the whole thing swayed as it started down the cobbled streets toward Hogwarts. “Not with such a gorgeous view.”

Billy’s brows jerked into a high arch. The blush that had only just begun to fade returned with full force. “ _Um?_ What?” he said. 

There was a note in his voice Teddy couldn’t decipher; he’d always had trouble with certain subtle human reactions. He tried to play it off, as always. “The castle?” he said, then pointed out the window for good measure.

Billy flicked a glance over, then back at his face, then out the window again. He cleared his throat. “Oh,” he said weakly as the thestral-drawn carriages led them toward their seventh year and all the adventures that lay in store for them. “Right. I knew that.”

Teddy offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile, doggedly ignoring the rapid thrum of his pulse. He hated when he missed a social cue. He hated the feeling of being _different_. “So,” he said, trying to direct the conversation away from what had to have been a gaffe. “How do you figure your House will deal with Harry Potter’s second year?”

Billy just made a pained noise.

All told, the ride up to the castle was nearly as awkward as that first hour in the Hogwarts Express had been…but at least Billy Kaplan was talking to him now. At least Teddy knew for certain Billy didn’t hate him.

He would take whatever he could get. In the world they lived in, that was the best someone like Teddy could ever hope for.


	3. Tommy

“We are geniuses,” Tommy said, watching from the carriage window as—six carriages ahead—Teddy climbed gracefully to the ground. He stood there a moment, face tipped up to the castle as if he were soaking in its towers and spires against the star-streaked sky. Then he turned, catching Billy’s arm as Tommy’s brother tumbled like a sack of newly weened kittens out of the carriage behind him.

_Smooth, Billy. Really smooth._

“Seriously,” he added when David didn’t say anything. “Evil geniuses. I knew tricking them into sharing a carriage would work.”

“Yes, Tommy,” David said, finally glancing up from the roll of parchment. His glasses caught the flickering torchlight that lined the path up to the great doors. “You are a regular Emma Woodhouse.”

“Huh?”

That earned a laugh and David’s full attention. He could feel himself responding to it, as usual—puffing up a little, sitting straighter and stronger and, whatever, more something. David offering the full focus of his stupidly big brain always made him feel a little more _something_.

“You know,” David said, letting the parchment roll up uselessly on his lap. He pushed up his glasses. “You’re the Muggle-born. You should be the one who knows these references.”

Tommy just flapped a hand at him. “ _I’m_ not the dork, remember? Shut up,” he added when David opened his mouth. “It’s not my fault you and Eli are rubbing off on me.”

“Well,” David said.

“Like, constantly.”

“Well,” David said.

“All over the place.”

“…well,” David said.

“Just the two of you rubbing off on me _all the time._ ”

David gave a huff of laughter. “I’m becoming increasingly disturbed by the direction of this conversation,” he said. “You win: pointless pedantics averted.”

“Scooooore. Hey,” Tommy added as their carriage rocked to a stop in front of the huge doors. He followed David out, and if he got a little tripped up trying to unfold himself and grab for his things and look around and talk all at once, well. At least he was a hell of a lot smoother than _Billy_ had been. “Speaking of Eli, think you two can break away early from the feast? Or will the Grey Lady have your nuts in a vise if you try?” 

Tommy wagged a finger before David could answer. Their carriage was already moving around back where the elves would take care of the trunks; the great hall was steadily filling with students. “ _Speaking of_ your nuts in a vise…”

“Do we have to?” David said dryly, leading the way inside.

Tommy trotted to keep up. “If she catches you, do you have to totally answer a riddle to get free? Like…” He frowned, wracking his brain. “Like…”

David just shook his head, weaving through the milling crowd of kids, moving _en masse_ from the vestibule into the huge hall. Even Tommy had to stop and take a breath when they stepped past the threshold and into the hall. Hundreds of candles were floating high above the four House tables, light casting a warm, _welcoming_ glow that never failed to fill his chest with joy. The ceiling was an endless map of stars, flickering here and there as the ghosts moved lazily about, surveying their students.

At the high table, chairs were already filled with familiar—and one very _unfamiliar_ —faces. And of course there at the very center of it all was Dumbledore, watching over his flock with a patient sort of amusement that always made Tommy want to straighten up and _prove_ himself worthy of this, this _home_ he’d been given, this weird sprawling family, and, ugh, he was getting sentimental, abort, abort.

“I got it,” he said far too loudly, snapping his fingers. David glanced over, willing as ever to humor him. “What did the banana say to the vibrator?”

“I’m unwilling to even venture a guess.”

Someone bumped into Tommy nearly hard enough to send him staggering—but before he could even pivot to give them an earful, an arm snaked around his waist. Kate laughed at the look her turned on her, shaking loose strands of dark hair back. “It said: why are you shaking,” she said, accent posh enough to rival David’s. “She’s going to _eat_ me.”

“Hello, Kate,” David said evenly, a smile threading through his words. Kate was Tommy’s friend primarily—just as Eli was David’s—but the four of them had been together for so many years now that the lines were wonderfully blurred. “Thank you for that disturbing image.”

“Which she _stole from me_ ,” Tommy pointed out, batting at her when she just snapped her teeth at him with a wicked smile. She’d left her Gryffindor tie hanging like a scarf around her neck. “Back, harpy!”

“Yes, well, if it soothes your temper any, you are _both_ disturbing.”

A fourth joined their little huddle, shouldering his way past the throngs of students breaking around their unmoving knot. “What’s disturbing?” Eli asked, looking between their faces before immediately throwing up both hands. “Wait, never mind. Remembered I definitely don’t want to know. We have a plan for tonight?”

“Sneak out; meet up; don’t get caught. Do you need a map and itemized instructions?” Kate asked, “Or do you think our _Head Boy_ will be able to piece it together from there?”

“Oh look,” David said, smoothly stepping forward and snagging Eli’s elbow as he went. “Our table, where we should be going.”

Eli twisted back with a noise like an affronted cat. “You,” he began, gesturing at a too-fiercely smiling Kate.

“Will have plenty of time to fight later,” David continued blithely, ignoring Eli’s ruffled temper with all the serenity of a summer’s breeze. He didn’t let go of the other boy’s arm, sweeping him toward the Ravenclaw table with a single parting glance at Tommy.

Tommy, left with Kate, just shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “He’s _your_ ex.”

“He’s _your_ friend,” she shot back, then crossed her arms to look him over. Even dressed in the same school robes as everyone else, Kate managed to look half wild. Her dark hair was twisted up into a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face. Purple stones winked from her ears, catching the light every time she moved—every time she did _not_ glance back toward where David (seriously, bless him; David was the _best_ ) was smoothly wrangling a ranting Eli into his seat. “Did you have a good summer? You barely wrote me.”

“Letters are boring,” Tommy said with another shrug. He tipped his head toward the Gryffindor table and they fell into step together. It was mostly full up, kids shouting greetings up and down the line to each other. “Besides, Mum freaks out whenever an owl shows up unexpected. And for her, it’s pretty much always unexpected.”

Kate pulled a face. “She still won’t let you have one?”

“Says they carry disease.” Which was the least of what she said about owls, about magic, about him, but hey, whatever. Whenever he and Billy found their _real_ mother, Tommy could stop pretending what she and Dad said didn’t hurt and let it be the _truth_. Because that’s how it worked, right? Once he found his real family, the fake one couldn’t make him feel like shit anymore? “Whatever.”

Kate was silent for a moment. “Did Eli write to you?” she asked, but Tommy just waved her off.

“Nope, I told you both last year: I am _not_ getting in the middle of this. If you want to be idiots, you can do it without me. Shove over,” he added to one of the Weasleys, claiming the bit of space that opened up when they obligingly huddled closer together. He thought he heard a snippet of whispered conversation—something about _not since the station_ and _you figure they got left or something?_ —but he turned the younger boys out and turned his full attention on Kate. “Or if you have to spill your guts about it, talk to America.”

“Don’t talk to America,” America added, shoving her way into a seat across from them. “America doesn’t give a shit.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Good to see you, too,” she said. “And thanks for the show of support.”

The other girl just looked Kate over, brows arched. America was the prototypical Gryffindor—brave to a fault, brash, a little too willing to go diving in fists swinging. “You don’t want support, chica,” she said, leaning in on one elbow. “You just want to bitch about how he didn’t realize how good he had it. And you’re right. He had no idea.”

Kate had opened her mouth to retort, but she closed it at the almost-compliment. “Oh,” she said, visibly flustered.

“And neither do you,” America added.

“Oh,” Kate said, narrowing her eyes.

Tommy opened his mouth to add his two cents, leaning in eagerly, but America cut him off with a snort. “Don’t even start,” she said, turning away with the finality of a slamming door, elbowing her other (cooler? No way; no one was cooler than _them_ ) friend in the side and falling gracefully into another conversation.

Kate leaned back, arms crossed. “Well,” she said darkly. “That was bracing.”

“True talk, America-style,” Tommy said. “Not that I agree with her,” he added quickly at Kate’s sharp look. 

She considered him a long moment, then gave a little nod. “There,” she said. “You’re always wondering how your mouth gets ahead of you, and here I am letting you know: that’s where you should stop.”

Tommy opened his mouth.

Laughing, Kate clapped a hand over it; her (ridiculously pretty—but then, Tommy had excellent taste in friends) eyes were dancing. “Nope. Consider this me saving you from yourself. Hm,” Kate added, studying Tommy. He was laughing behind the soft press of her palm, aware of a few curious glances being swung their way. “Maybe we should have been doing this the last six years. Just think of all the trouble you could have avoided if someone was around to help you keep your mouth shut.”

Tommy rolled his eyes.

“David doesn’t count,” Kate tartly informed him, finally pulling away. She rubbed her palm against her robes; Tommy _may_ have licked her in retaliation. “God knows he usually just encourages you.”

“ _Merlin_ knows he does,” Tommy agreed with an easy grin. He loved correcting Kate, Muggle-born to Muggle-born. He got the chance so rarely.

Kate just shook her head and turned to catch another of her friends’ attention. Tommy took the moment of silence to glance over his shoulder toward Ravenclaw, shooting David two thumbs up; David, catching the gesture with that perfect timing he always seemed to have, just shook his own head with a little smile tucked up around the corners of his mouth.

They’d been friends from the very beginning. Highly dubious about “all that magic wankery” and yet only too willing to shuffle Tommy out of sight for months at a time, his parents had dropped him off his first year at the portkey that would take him to the station and drove off, leaving Tommy clutching a worn boot and feeling adrift inside.

The letter had been pretty clear—he’d need books, supplies, a _wand_. He should gather these things and go to _this_ abandoned parking lot and find _this_ boot and port—whatever that meant—to London to catch some train.

(Why he had to go all the way to London just to turn around and ride up to Scotland, Tommy still didn’t understand. But, hey, he figured—wizards were just kind of weird sometimes.)

So there he was all those years ago, eleven years old, scared, holding a (magical?) boot, a bookbag full of jeans and hand-me-down t-shirts, and a fierce determination not to cry as he watched his parents drive away.

“Hey,” a quiet voice had suddenly said. “Is that the portkey?”

Tommy turned, startled—he hadn’t seen anyone else arrive. “Huh?”

“The portkey.” The boy moved closer. He was tall for his age, with warm brown skin and eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses. His accent was all posh London, but it’d be a few months yet before Tommy learned he and his family liked to vacation with cousins up north near the end of summer. 

Then the boy stopped and tipped his head, looking at Tommy with a kind of endless patience that should have been unnerving in an eleven-year-old. For David, somehow, it always just…fit. 

Tommy glanced down, cracked thumbnail dragging over the sole of the boot. “I dunno,” he muttered. “It was just sitting here.” He didn’t want to admit to not knowing what a portkey was. It was all so weird and overwhelming and _frightening_ , he was reluctant to say anything more than he had to, just in…well. Just in case.

“Oh. Are you a Muggle?”

He didn’t want to admit to not knowing what _that_ was either.

“It’s okay,” the boy added. “If you are, I mean. You can port with me and my dad. Mum’s going to stay behind with Kim—that’s my sister. I’m David Alleyne, by the way,” he said—and actually stuck out his hand to shake, like they were proper old people or something.

Tommy just stared at him. “I’m Tommy,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“…offering my hand? To shake?”

He snorted. “Yeah, don’t do that.” Instead of taking David’s hand in his, he pushed the boot at him. A tall, handsome black man was coming to join them, carrying a huge steamer trunk as if it weighed nothing at all. Across the lot, a well-dressed woman was smoothing her daughter’s hair; Tommy still had no idea where they’d come from. There were no cars in the lot or anything. “Did you guys tunnel out of the ground or something?”

“Why? Is that something Muggles do? Dad, this is Tommy,” David added when his father set his trunk down. “He found the portkey for us.”

“Good to hear. Hello, Tommy; it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

God, what was he supposed to say to some old guy with better manners than anyone Tommy’d ever met? He hoped David’s father didn’t want to shake hands, too; Tommy was pretty sure his were too filthy for anyone nice as this. “Um, yeah,” he said.

“Where are your things?” Mr. Alleyne asked.

Tommy looked down at his backpack and then up at him. He gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“Ah,” Mr. Alleyne said. Then, a slight frown appearing between his brows: “Where are your parents?”

Tommy shrugged again. Later, once he’d settled into this crazy new life as a wizard or whatever, he’d be loud and brash and himself again, but on this gray day, abandoned in this parking lot with this strangely polite family—wearing clothes that didn’t look at _all_ like hand-me-downs—he felt as if his tongue were too big and sluggish to move.

How could he admit to a complete stranger that he was such a bother that not even his _parents_ wanted him?

“I see,” Mr. Alleyne finally murmured, when it was clear Tommy wasn’t going to say anything more. He looked openly concerned now—and maybe a little angry—dark brows drawn together behind glasses very much like his son’s. “Well. Then you’ll come with us, of course.”

“Of course he will,” David said. He jostled his shoulder against Tommy’s lightly. “I’ve got an extra robe packed. Mum’s got this thing about being over-prepared for everything; you can borrow it if you like. Hey, do you know anything about football?” he added before Tommy could get self-conscious. 

“Uh, yeah. Who doesn’t?”

“ _I_ don’t. I’m absolute rubbish at keeping it all straight. Would you mind teaching me about it sometime?”

That was enough to startle a laugh out of Tommy, and he relaxed all the more, knowing that as weird and crazy and off-kilter his world had become, _he_ had something to teach a kid like _David_. And if David’s fortuitously-timed request had been planned to put him at ease—if David, brilliant, know-it-all, unmatchable David, was faking ignorance just to give Tommy something to hold on to—then he never let on.

If anything? David _still_ claimed not to know much about all the Muggle crap Tommy most liked to tell him about, but he asked the _best_ questions and would let Tommy chatter on about it for hours.

But back then, still unaware how lucky he’d been to run into his future best friend on his very first day, Tommy snorted and knocked their shoulders together playfully, feeling a little more himself again. Maybe this wasn’t going to be _all_ bad. “Sure, I can walk you through it. It’s easy. See—” And he was off, running at the mouth a mile a minute.

David smiled as he listened, a little crooked. He had a nice smile. In fact, as his mother and younger sister ( _Kim_ , Tommy committed to memory. _Mr. and Mrs. Alleyne. Kim. David_.) joined them, all friendly welcome and perfect manners, he realized the Alleyne’s had a nice _everything_. They practically adopted him over the next year, making sure he had the books he needed, and some robes of his own, and even a _wand_. All the things Tommy’s family hadn’t bothered trying to provide.

And as the years went on, they welcomed him home for the holidays, and made sure he _kept_ having everything he needed, and sent him birthday sweeties and hysterically earnest-yet-oh-so- _wrong_ attempts at Muggle gifts…and once, when he was fifteen, Mr. Alleyne dropped a hand to Tommy’s shoulder and casually called him _son_.

Shit. He pretty much owed the Alleynes everything. And now David, all the way across the room at Ravenclaw with Eli, tipped his head and arched his brows as if reading those lightning flashes of memory as they skittered across Tommy’s face.

Tommy flipped him off; David laughed and signed: _Stop being an ass. Where is Harry Potter?_

…huh?

Tommy twisted around, looking all the way up and down the long Gryffindor table. Most of the kids had found their seats by now and McGonagall was standing to retrieve the Sorting Hat. He could hear the nervous-yet-excited Firsties just outside the door, waiting to be escorted to their new Houses.

But despite counting off various redheads, Tommy didn’t spot the littlest one—the second year. Which meant he didn’t spot Weasley’s best friend, Harry.

He turned back to David and shrugged, then signed: _Maybe they have detention._

_School hasn’t started yet. Not even Snape is that cruel._

Tommy snorted and David waved that last bit off; they both knew that wasn’t true. _Keep an eye out,_ Tommy signed. Then, glancing around as if to make sure no one was paying attention (as if there was anyone who’d be able to read the complex movement of their hands even if they were), he added, _I don’t like how weird things are getting._

David gave a small nod. _We’ll keep an eye out. We have a mole in Slytherin anyway._

As one, they both glanced toward where Billy was very, very obviously trying not to be caught staring toward Hufflepuff, where Teddy was joking around with some of the kids on the Quidditch team. Next to him, chin on her fist, the pretty blonde Welsh Seeker who’d be giving Tommy fits if Harry weren’t so good laughed. Teddy laughed with her.

Billy very obviously sighed.

“Ugh,” Tommy muttered, pulling a face. _Never mind him; he’s useless._

“What are you whining about now?” Kate asked, glancing over at him. She’d caught the end of the sign, but even after all these years, she still hadn’t cracked the code. “What’s up?”

He glanced at David to make sure they were done, then turned back to Kate. The Sorting was just starting. “I’ll tell you soon,” he promised—thinking of the missing Harry Potter and…Ron? Was that the little Weasley boy’s name? Whatever, _Whichever_ Weasley. “I already got Billy up to speed on the train, but I think… I think we should ask Teddy to join us tonight too.”

“Teddy? The Hufflepuff?” She glanced across the room with a frown. “Why?”

“Consider it cross-House cooperation. Things are weird,” Tommy added when Kate’s frown didn’t fade. “And we won’t learn anything if we just stick to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, yeah? We need Slytherin and Hufflepuff if we want the whole picture. If we want to, you know…make sure everything stays safe this year.”

Not like last year, when whispers of fighting and bloodism and _You Know Who_ skittered through Hogwarts like a million eight-legged shadows.

Up on the dais, McGonagall called the first student. By his side, Kate gave a low chuckle. “What?” Tommy demanded.

“Nothing,” she said, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. But her smile only grew, both bemused and fond at the same time. “It’s just…listen to you, sounding all adult. Maybe you’ll make an Auror yet.”

“Oh, suck my arse,” Tommy groaned, and defiantly turned his back on her to watch a bunch of little snots get Sorted into their increasingly divided Houses.


	4. Billy

Teddy had thought Billy hated him.

_Teddy. Had thought Billy. Hated. Him._

Billy sat through the entire Sorting (politely clapping for every new student, even as most of his Housemates sat stone-faced around him when Gryffindor or Hufflepuff were called) anxiously turning over the incredible shift his life had taken in just a few hours.

This morning, he’d been bubbling over with excitement to be returning to Hogwarts. Sure, he’d managed to lose the diviner that he and Tommy hoped to use to track down their blood mother, but hey, there were other options open to them. And even if they never found her…well, maybe what really mattered was that they were close enough now to even give it a try, right?

But then there was that awkward Gryffindor-vs-Slytherin moment at the station…and then he’d walked in on Teddy _half-naked_ in the train car…and then the excruciatingly long ride cramped beside Tommy-and-David as he tried not to stare at the way filtering sunlight hit Teddy’s face…and then how he literally ran into Teddy in the accordion-shaped divider between cars when, for a moment…

What? For a moment, _what_?

Billy poked at his food, only half aware of Noh at his left, talking about some wizarding rock band. His mind was too full to even process Noh’s words. It was just, in the dim of the connector, Teddy had suddenly looked _radiant_. Even more radiant than usual. Like he, like, like he was made of sunlight itself or something, shining an inner light that was so beautiful it hurt to see.

It had happened so quickly—there and gone again—that Billy could almost believe he imagined it. That maybe he was just dazzled the way he always was by the Quidditch captain who, until this strange, life-changing day, barely seemed to even know Billy existed.

He dared a quick glance over at the Hufflepuff table, where Teddy sat surrounded by friends. He was laughing, earrings catching the flicker of candlelight, beautiful. He was just so _beautiful_. And _good_. And _nice_. Even when, for some reason Billy could hardly comprehend, he thought Billy hated him. He was so glad he’d gotten the chance to clear that up and start over.

Teddy looked over, catching Billy’s eye, and Billy quickly jerked his chin away…but then he forced himself to look back. Because, _okay_ , maybe he understood where Teddy got that impression—Billy had made a habit out of scuttling away whenever Teddy so much as breezed by his orbit—but he was _wrong_. He was so, so wrong, and if Billy had to fight his impulse to turtle up and avoid being caught looking like a moon-faced creeper every time the other boy so much as glanced at him, then _he would_. Anything to keep Teddy from reading all the wrong things into his intense, anxiously hopeful discomfort.

So Billy glanced up through his lashes again. He met Teddy’s eyes. He smiled. He barely caught himself before adding in a dorky little wave.

Next to him, Noh made a low noise. “You are not even listening,” he said.

Billy forced himself to look away from Teddy’s return half-smile. “No,” he said. There was no point in lying about it. “Sorry.”

“You were too busy mooning over Teddy Altman.”

Did _everyone_ know? “Uh,” Billy said, hoping his cheeks hadn’t gone as red as Tommy’s House tie. “Why would you say that?”

Noh just shook his head, leaning in closer. He was actually a year older than Billy, and he looked it—all lithe, lean muscles and vaguely threatening adult grace. He’d been a year ahead of him before mysteriously disappearing for all of Billy’s Fifth. When he returned the next year, now in Billy’s class, Noh seemed more subdued and less inclined to throw his weight…and sometimes his fists…around. He kept to himself, with very few exceptions, and always, always kept his pale skin covered from wrists to neck to ankles. As far as Billy knew, no one ever asked him about it; they always seemed too scared. “You ought to be more careful, Kaplan,” Noh said, voice pitched low.

Billy glanced around, but none of their Housemates seemed to be listening. “Um,” he said, skin beginning to prickle in warning. “Of what, exactly?”

“That.” Noh tipped his head subtly toward Teddy, then cut his eyes over to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. It wasn’t hard to read his meaning in the gesture. “ _Them_. Things are not as they used to be. The world is changing. People are changing. We do not have the freedom to be naïve.”

Tommy and David’s words from earlier—from the train ride, after Teddy had left them—wended through his thoughts like smoke: _Don’t you think things have gotten tense around the school? Don’t you think it’s time we tried to do something about it?_ At the time, he’d been too grateful to be included that he hadn’t given it much thought before hastily agreeing.

But now… There was something about Noh’s expression. Something trapped between sinister and sad. _Danger_ , his eyes seemed to shout as they met Billy’s; he couldn’t seem to shake the impression that Noh was screaming just past the blank mask of his face. _We are all in terrible, terrible danger._

“I don’t know what you mean,” Billy bluffed, folding his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking. He was all at once hyperaware of the way Noh’s sleeves were so closely fitted—no risk of them being pushed up by a careless gesture. He was also aware that Noh wasn’t the only one; that Noh hadn’t been the only student in their House to disappear and return changed. And all of them, to a one, seemed to watch him with narrow eyes whenever he spoke to Tommy or glanced toward Teddy. They seemed to watch and radiate cold disapproval when _any_ Slytherin so much as stepped a toe beyond the restrictive, bloodest, _damaging_ stereotype.

But. Paranoia or truth?

“See,” Noh said, voice soft with something that could be kindness or threat, “I think you do. Watch yourself, Kaplan.”

Billy’s pulse picked up speed. “Or what?” he said.

Noh just shook his head. “Or someone else will. I am not threatening you,” he added. “You can pursue your…friendships…if you choose. But you have to know what kind of fire you are playing with. These are dark times.”

_Dark times_. Yes. Ever since Potter had exploded onto the scene last year, detonating the fragile peace with the suggestion that _You Know Who_ had returned and changing usual House squabbles into a battlefield, it had _felt_ like dark times.

Like the darkest.

“What do you know of it?” Billy said carefully.

Noh just looked down at his plate. The silver-white sweep of his hair—a Malfoy trait, declaring his blood kinship to the old, proud, deeply _suspect_ family to anyone who cared to look—hid his eyes. “More than either of us actually want to, I think,” Noh said. Then he looked up again, and that brief flash of vulnerability was gone. He arched a silver brow. “I also happen to know a great deal about the Weird Sisters. Are you going to actually listen this time if I tell you?”

Billy shrugged a shoulder, noncommittal, and that was all it took for Noh to pick up the thread of their earlier conversation again, talking blithely of _Do the Hippogriff_ and _Magic Works_ while Billy fought the urge to try to catch Tommy’s eyes across the great hall, his stomach twisting in increasingly worried, frightened shapes.

_You ought to be more careful, Kaplan_ , Noh had said, as if it were as simple as that. _We’re going to save the school_ , Tommy had said, as if their victory was pre-ordained.

Billy was starting to think it was a hell of a lot more complicated than any of them were willing to admit—on _either_ side. …and perhaps the fact that there were sides, and that the lines were already so starkly drawn, meant that they may be far, far too late to save anything at all.


	5. Teddy

Cassie bumped their shoulders together at the end of dinner. 

“Don’t look now,” she murmured, lashes dipping against her cheeks, “but I think _someone’s_ got an admirer.”

Teddy immediately looked up, scanning the buffeting crowd of students. “Huh?” he said—feeling dim as a dying bulb and more than a little abashed when she began to laugh, one hand covering her face, blue eyes scrunched up. “…sorry,” he added.

“ _Don’t look_ , I say, and what does he go and do?” Cassie bumped against them again, giggling over her palm. She’d gotten some sun over summer holidays, ears pinked and a handful of brand new freckles scattered like sand across her cheeks. She seemed taller, too; broader. _Quidditch camp_ , she’d said when he’d given her a faux-horrified once-over. _Guess you can’t threaten to fit me in your pocket anymore, huh?_

“Sorry,” Teddy said again, flashing her a quick, wry grin. “Instinct.”

“Your _instinct_ is to not listen to me?”

He shrugged an eloquent shoulder. “It’s kept me alive this far, yeah?” Teddy laughed with her, pretending to duck when she made a half-hearted swipe for him. The Welsh girl was younger by a couple of years. Probably too young for them to be as chummy as they were, but she was one hell of a Seeker, and _kind_ in a bratty sort of way, which made her uniquely comfortable to be around. He figured if he’d ever had any siblings—or been raised around many kids at all—they’d have been like Cassie.

The Muggle books he nicked and read cover to cover all those years seemed to suggest as much, anyway. (Well, that and becoming an orphan was nearly inevitable, but so far he’d managed to escape that particular horror of young adult literature.)

“You know, for that I really should leave you to your fate,” Cassie mused. She rested her chin on her fist, studying him thoughtfully. Students were pouring around them in a mass wave of black robes and brightly colored ties. The first years had already been led off, of course, and the rest of the students were practically bouncing off the old stone walls as they called across the tables to each other; whispered and giggled in small knots; snuck out their wands for secretive curses.

At the high table, Dumbledore was speaking with McGonagall in a low voice, and barely contained chaos reigned beneath the flickering night sky.

And somewhere not far away, his “admirer” was watching him.

Teddy glanced down at his hands, then quickly toward the Slytherin table. Sure enough, Billy was standing at its head, visibly hesitating there with his gaze locked unerringly on Teddy, Tommy just then turning away to catch up with Eli and David. He flushed when their eyes met and began to turn away before quickly turning back—only to overcompensate, stumble, and pitch awkwardly against the rat-faced second year with the peculiar name.

Drago, or something.

Teddy looked down again, hiding a grin behind his fist. Small eddies of pleasure uncoiled low and sweet in his belly, and he couldn’t fight the urge to shift in his seat so he could steal a better look. Billy was leaning in as if to check to make sure the little kid was all right—he reared back a second later when Drago (Drogo? Drabo?) shoved him off with a red-faced shout.

“You’re getting moony,” Cassie said, hooking a small hand over his bicep. Teddy startled, straightening; he’d gotten so wrapped up in watching Billy that he’d almost forgotten she was there. “Maybe _he’s_ got an admirer too.”

“Oh shove off.” 

He elbowed her gently in the ribs and she stood, laughing. A few paces away, that strange Ravenclaw boy who followed like the moon to her brilliantly beaming sun shifted from foot to foot and coughed awkwardly. “Say hi for me,” Cassie teased, flicking back a strand of wheat-blond hair. “If he ever manages to escape Draco Malfoy, that is.”

_Draco_. So close, and yet so far. “You’re reading a lot into very, very little,” Teddy protested, but Cassie just waved him off with another bright laugh, moving to join her too-serious shadow. He met Teddy’s eyes and gave a little—strangely formal—nod before shyly letting Cassie clasp his hand.

Teddy couldn’t help but smile, the sight of those interlocked fingers warming him. “Don’t forget to be at tryouts,” he said.

“This year Hufflepuff is going to make the rest of the Houses _cry_ ,” she agreed, giving a little bounce. Then, to the boy at her right, “Nicely. Because we’re the _nice_ ones.”

“See,” he said as she led him off, “you keep saying that, but I’m _still_ not sure I…” The rest was lost as they were swept up into the sea of students.

Teddy watched the big double doors for a long minute, smiling a little to himself—wistfully, because… Well. Because _he’d_ like to have something like that. Something simple and teasing and comfortable and good. Honestly, he’d like to have something like that with Billy; had wanted it for what felt something like forever now.

But it was impossible, even now that the other boy was actually willing to talk to him.

He pressed his palms to the table and levered himself up, gold-and-black tie swinging. It wasn’t like he had a shortage of interest. Considering his secret heritage, it would have been a shock if people _weren’t_ always asking him out—to Hogsmeade, to illicit meetings in the Astronomy tower, to Yule balls, to the library for suspiciously timed “research trips”. He’d turned them all down, every one, without a hint of regret—without a hint of interest. Seventeen years old, and Teddy had never been kissed; he’d never really cared to change that.

Until.

_Until._

He looked up through his lashes. Billy was finally backing away from Draco, both hands raised and a sharp smile twisting his features. He had the most interesting face Teddy had ever seen. Not beautiful, like Teddy himself. (It wasn’t arrogance to know the weighted hand genetics had given him. It also wasn’t a gift the way so many people liked to assume.) But…interesting. Billy was so, so very interesting, from the almost-gawky way he held himself to the snarl of his dark hair to the pale shadows beneath his eyes to the secrets he whispered to the lake when he thought no one else could hear him.

_(Teddy, hidden beneath the glassy surface, watching ripples make twisting shapes out of Billy’s mobile features and struggling against the strange, aching surge deep in his chest, treasured every stolen word.)_

It really would have been easier if Billy did hate him, Teddy mused, moving around the head of the table just as Billy turned and hurried away from Slytherin. That would have forced him to stay locked up tight—secret, safe. This…budding friendship, this shy, awkward _whatever_ , was so very dangerous because it made him want so very, very much.

He licked his bottom lip and smiled in welcome as Billy bustled up to him, fighting to forget the way that too-expressive face looked mirrored by the rippling water.

“Hey,” Teddy said.

“Oh Merlin save me, hi,” Billy said, dragging his fingers through his already-messy hair. He gave a short bark of laughter, glancing over his shoulder once and then back at Teddy again. “Sorry, hi. It’s just… _wow_ , is your House full of tiny little assholes too, or did Slytherin just grab the short straw again? Because I swear each year brings a fresh crop of entitled nightmares.”

“That bad, huh?” He tipped his head toward the door in question and they fell in step with each other. The crowd had thinned a little, students swarming up the moving staircases toward their various dorms. It seemed lucky, suddenly, that Hufflepuff and Slytherin were both tucked snugly underground; it meant they didn’t have to part ways for a few minutes more, at least. “Or are you just getting mean and crotchety in your old age?”

Billy shot him a look, lips quirking. But the smile began to fade almost immediately, dark brows tugging together.

“Billy?”

He opened his mouth again, then visibly hesitated before glancing around. “Later,” Billy finally said. “There are too many people here, and this whole thing…everything is just… Later.”

Teddy impulsively reached out to touch Billy’s shoulder, worried. There was something sad in Billy’s eyes when he said that, the teasing light dimmed to a bare flicker. He dropped his hand quickly when he felt Billy stiffen beneath it, embarrassed and trying to play it off. _Shit_. He needed to stop forgetting Billy was _not_ on the same wavelength as him no matter what Cassie tried to insinuate. “Yeah,” he said, a little too brightly. “Later’s good.”

Billy made an impatient noise, then glanced around. He snagged the corner of Teddy’s sleeve and tugged him aside—back toward one of the little copses that lined the hall. A trickle of students in silver-and-green and black-and-yellow were passing by (though, Teddy noted distractedly, never _together_ like he and Billy were), but if they crowded up against the stone wall, the little copse felt almost private. Cozy. “Sorry, sorry, things are just, uh, tense right now. Some of my friends and I… Okay, actually, it’s more like Tommy and _his_ friends, but I’ve been looped in… We…” He let out a huff of breath. “I’m already fumbling this. I should have let Tommy do it.”

“It’s okay,” Teddy assured him, almost reaching up to touch him again before he could catch himself. They were just standing so _close_ , heads tilted together as they whispered. That made it feel like so much more than it was. “What do you and your friends do?”

“Things at Hogwarts, well. You have to have noticed how bad it’s gotten. Especially over the last couple of years.”

Teddy shrugged a shoulder. It was impossible _not_ to notice, even for him. The House system always created some natural segregation—it only made sense that your closest friends, the ones you most sought out, were generally the same people you shared a dorm with, went to classes with, ate with—but for as long as he could remember, there had always been plenty of crossover.

Now, things were weird. _Tense_. And it was getting more and more unlikely to see Houses mingling the way they used to.

“We think it’s going to get worse,” Billy was saying. “With all this talk of You Know Who and everything that’s been going on…and that’s _dangerous_. Not just the obvious. Because.” He gestured vaguely. “Yeah, uh, if it’s _true_ about You Know Who, that’s already pretty incredibly dangerous. But by closing up like clams and, you know, siloing ourselves off like this, um. Tommy and I have been talking a lot, and we just, we think it’s _really_ a bad idea to let that happen. Because information gets siloed too, and what we need now more than anything is shared information. A unified front.”

There was a laugh, echoing down the nearly empty hall, and Billy suddenly went quiet. Teddy glanced over Billy’s shoulder, but he couldn’t see anything but the dim flicker of candlelight. He impulsively caught Billy’s elbow, tugging him deeper into the little copse, huddling close at the same time—so close he could feel the startled puff of Billy’s breath against his cheek, the brush of his shoulder. Anyone who spotted them now would assume they’d come here to… That they were… _Up to something_ more intimate than sharing whispered secrets, but Teddy didn’t pull away.

This felt, all at once, far too serious for something as childish as shy embarrassment to get in the way.

“Do you really believe what Harry Potter said?” Teddy murmured, head still turned toward the hall, keeping his eyes open for anyone who could pass close enough to overhear them. “About You Know Who being back?”

Billy let out a staccato breath, the heat of it gusting across Teddy’s cheek, the exposed curve of his neck. He fought not to shiver, suddenly so viscerally glad for the shapeshifting his mother’s heritage provided him; if he didn’t want to blush, he could control the slow bloom of color. “I dunno,” Billy finally said, after a weighty hesitation. “But I figure we can’t take the risk of dismissing it out of hand, right? Tommy and the others feel the same way.”

He wet his lips. “Who are the others?” Teddy asked.

Billy just chuffed a laugh and dropped his hand against Teddy’s arm for a second. It was little more than a glancing touch, there and gone again, but it drew Teddy’s gaze unerringly back to him. He stood towering over Billy by nearly a head, but with Billy’s face tilted up and his tilted down, it almost felt like the prelude to a kiss.

Billy flushed and pulled back a little—as much as the cramped copse would allow. “Come tonight and find out,” he said. “We’re meeting in the owrly, at midnight. This year, things are going to be different.”

He couldn’t deny that. It was just a few hours into his seventh year, and already nothing was like it used to be. “I’ll be there,” Teddy promised, feeling recklessly happy. He knew his mother wouldn’t approve of him joining in with…whatever Billy and Tommy and these mysterious others had planned. He was supposed to lay low, keep out of trouble until he graduated. But right now, with Billy so close and his heart pounding like a wild thing in his chest, he just couldn’t say no.

He couldn’t imagine not being a part of this, wherever it took him.

“Okay,” Billy said. Then he offered a crooked smile. “Okay, great. We’re going to do something about all of this. We really, really are. Um. Bring your friend, if you want. Or someone you know you can trust. We’ve got a couple Gryffindors, a couple Ravenclaws, you and me. We need more Hufflepuff if we can get it.”

“What about you?” Teddy asked impulsively. “Are you bringing anyone?” He…tried very hard not to mean anything _more_ with that simple question.

The face Billy made was distinctly unhappy. “No,” he said. “Haven’t you heard the gossip, Teddy? With all this talk of Death Eaters going on, Slytherins just can’t be trusted.”

“Billy…” He shifted even closer, wanting to somehow find the perfect words to wipe that look off Billy’s face.

But Billy just waved him—and his own words—away. “No, sorry. Sorry. We’ll figure that all out later. That’s what this is about, right? Figuring it out?” He tipped his head as if straining to hear something. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Teddy said. He was the first to look away, bashful. “Uh, so, I guess I’ll see you later.” He stepped out into the hall, already missing Billy’s proximity even as he gave himself a little shake. It didn’t _mean anything_. None of this _meant_ anything. The invitation had come through Billy from Tommy, obviously. Probably. Maybe?

He hoped not, but, still.

“Later,” Billy said, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. Somewhere down the hall, there was a scuff of a footfalls; Teddy glanced over and spotted two Slytherin girls walking with their heads close together. They slowed when they spotted him, eyes narrowing in twin expressions of mistrust. He didn’t recognize either of them—they weren’t in his year. It was, he realized, the Hufflepuff colors that had that wary look in their eyes.

Fuck. What was _happening_ to their school?

He cast Billy one final, quick look, then turned on his heel and hurried away, hating that it had come to this, and even more determined to be part of the solution. Assuming there even was a solution. Assuming that throwing his lot in with the others wasn’t just painting a bullseye on him for the whole school to see.

The smartest thing would be for him to stay quiet, stay out of sight— _graduate_ and start a life that only a wizard was allowed. Joining up with whatever Billy and Tommy and the others had planned was sheer madness. It could risk everything he and his parents had fought so hard for.

Teddy dropped his head, eyes focused intently on the stone flagons as he hurried down to the basement. The sweet, cozy scent of baking bread drifted all around him—yeast and wheat and _warmth_. He remembered the first time he had come down here as a first year, terrified that he’d be caught and tossed out on his ear at any moment. He’d been so scared, he’d barely paid attention as the prefect showed them how to gain entrance to their common room. He’d numbly followed the others inside, trembling. Feeling so very alone.

And then he’d looked up, breath filled with the scents of bread and greenery and woodsmoke, and he’d seen his new home for the first time…and all that fear had melted away.

The same thing was true now. Teddy turned the final corner and spotted the big oak barrels lining the hallway. He could hear the clink and whisk of the nearby kitchen as the house elves worked; the wood cask felt warm against his knuckles as he instinctively found the right one and tapped out the codeword.

Immediately, the Hufflepuff common room door swung open, revealing the welcome sight of over-stuffed couches and deep, comfy chairs. Fires were roaring in the hearths, and vines of greenery ran up the earth-colored walls in beautiful patterns, brilliant yellow flowers opening almost shyly to the moonlight cast through the many round windows running just below the intricately carved wooden ceiling. Teddy could see the moon-touched grass just above the lower lip of those windows, and the trees silhouetted against the wide starry sky just beyond.

The warmth of that sight, the familiarity, wrapped around him like the coziest of blankets, and slowly he began to feel the tension easing from his shoulders; he could feel the ramping anxiety begin to fade.

Yeah. Yeah, he’d risk a _lot_ for this place. In the end, he supposed, he’d risk everything.

He stepped inside, letting the door swing behind him. Cassie—curled up on one of the big couches with Nate at her side—smiled. The kneazle he co-parented with Tommy sat on her outstretched legs. He yowled when he spotted Teddy and stood, jumping down and practically stalking over, plumed tail waving. “Hey, you,” Cassie said, wriggling her rainbow-socked feet at him. “What, no admirer in tow?”

Nate just arched his brows a little, quiet. He’d pulled off his tie in his usual attempt to blend in. Last year, no one really gave him any grief for following Cassie back into her common room. This year, Teddy noticed uneasily, a few of the other students were shooting the two of them glances and whispering.

And Nate was just a _Ravenclaw_.

No, he was already decided; he wasn’t chickening out now. In fact…

“Hey yourself,” Teddy said, stooping to pick up Batman. He couldn’t help the little smile that tucked up the corners of his mouth when the kneazle began to purr loudly, one paw hooking in the front of Teddy’s robe, big, bat-like ears flicking as he headbutted Teddy’s chest. Teddy wrapped an arm around Batman’s heavy rump, scratching behind his ears with his other hand as he moved to join Cassie and Nate. 

Cassie watched with an unabashed grin as he nudged a big, plush footstool a bit closer and sank down onto it, letting Batman settle in his lap. The kneazle yowled happily and rolled to expose its belly, golden eyes closing when Teddy absently ran his fingers through dark fur.

He glanced once around the common room. There was no one nearby, but he kept his voice low and even anyway. “So, about that. That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Cassie’s eyebrows climbed. She closed her book, wordlessly passing it over to Nate. He wrapped his arms around it, as if it were some kind of shield; his expression remained perfectly flat. “Should I go?” he asked.

“No,” Teddy said. “I think this involves you too.”

“I somehow am entirely too dubious.”

“Shh,” Cassie said with a laugh, dropping one hand to Nate’s thigh. The casual gesture made the other boy stiffen a little, cheeks going pink. He looked at Cassie, then Teddy, then down at the book in his arms, visibly flustered but not _displeased_. “I’ve got to hear this. So tell us, Teddy,” she teased. “What does your,” her voice lowered, because even Cassie knew how to recognize and respect the limits, even if he was certain she liked them no more than he did, “Slytherin _friend_ have to do with us?”

Teddy fought his own blush at the subtle emphasis she put on _friend_. “From the way that second year is looking at you,” he said, “everything.” He subtly jerked his chin toward where Ernie Macmillan sat trying not to strain himself pretending he wasn’t watching them—or, more specifically, watching the single non-Hufflepuff in the room as if at any moment Nate would turn into a dragon and try to roast them all. He was a good kid from what Teddy had gathered, but after last year, even the _good kids_ were pretty shaken.

“ _Ignore him_ ,” Cassie said quickly when Nate just dropped his chin. “You have every right to be here until curfew; I _invited_ you.”

“People are nervous about anything or anyone they don’t know,” Nate said. “For a good reason.”

“For a _stupid_ reason. As if you would be one of _them._ ” She studied Teddy. “Are you saying your friend is looking to try to put a stop to all this cross-House jackassery?”

He smiled, thumb running over one of Batman’s soft paws. Cassie was pure stereotypical Hufflepuff—friendly, kind, and a terror to behold when anyone threatened her friends. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure that’s what we’re going to do. Cross-House cooperation; sharing information. Putting a stop to this before it can get out of hand.”

_It’s already gotten out of hand,_ a part of him whispered, but Teddy firmly ignored it, just as he ignored the anxiety bubbling low in his gut, the warnings blaring like klaxons in his skull. _It’s worth it,_ he reminded himself, looking from one grimly determined face to the other. They were both in; he didn’t even have to ask. _I can’t just hide and watch the Houses turn against each other in fear; if someone’s trying to stop it, I have to be a part of that._

_Before we end up tearing ourselves apart and all of this will have been for nothing._

“We’re in,” Cassie said. She curled her hand in Nate’s and squeezed.

“Okay,” Teddy said, trying to smile. He was still aware of Ernie watching them suspiciously. “We’re in. We’re doing this.” Curled in Teddy lap, plumed tail swaying, Batman trilled in firm agreement.

It was the first night of his final year, and already his whole world had changed.


	6. David

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the fantastic fan-nart.tumblr.com. Check them out and tell them how awesome they are!

“All right,” David said, looking around the ring of earnest faces one final time. “That’s it for tonight. We’re adjourned until two Tuesdays from now, same time, same place. Remember, we’ll be slipping out one to two at a time no sooner than ten minutes apart to help avoid detection. Make sure you have an excuse ready in case you’re caught trying to sneak back into your common room.” He paused, studying them again, before adding with a crooked smile, “Thank you for coming.”

Tommy snorted, already popping up to his feet. “That’s what she said.”

David barely rolled his eyes, used to that by now; Billy and Cassie groaned in unison. Teddy stood, stretching, his robe pulling tight across his chest as owls hooted softly from their perches as if admiring the view.

“Wait. That’s it?” Nate sat forward, a frown between his brows. He’d been quiet the entire meeting, soaking in what everyone else had to say. It was funny, David mused—he and Nate shared a House, but he barely knew the other boy. David spent most of his time with Tommy and Nate spent most of his time with Cassie; they may as well have been in two different universes.

“That’s it for now,” David agreed. 

“But I thought we were going to actually do something.”

David reached up to slip off his glasses, cleaning the lens with the edge of his sleeve. He didn’t actually need to do that anymore—the lenses had been spelled to always be clean—but it was a habit ingrained from long years. It also gave his hands something to do. Curiously, the longer he spent around Tommy, the more he felt the urge to move. “It’s the start of a school year,” David said, keeping his voice perfectly even, logical. “There’s nothing more for us to do but wait, and keep our ears to the ground, and let each other know what we hear. We’ll meet once every two weeks to check in. Once we have concrete information, we can see about taking action.”

Eli—standing for most of the meeting off to one side, arms crossed over his chest—snorted. “All this cloak and dagger bullshit is effing stupid, is what,” he muttered. “We’ll see each other in class. In the halls.”

“Or the library,” Tommy added with a dramatic eyeroll toward David. He poked his finger into one of the big coops, laughing and jerking back when one of the owls took a playful nip at him.

“Or the library,” Eli agreed, as if Tommy hadn’t been mocking them both. “Why don’t we just meet there every afternoon? Be better to share what we hear as soon as we hear it, yeah?”

David frowned. “We agreed that it would be wise to be circumspect.”

“You mean _you_ decreed it,” Eli shot back.

Kate stood with a low, annoyed sound. “No,” she said, shaking back her curtain of dark hair as she faced off against her ex. “ _I_ decreed it. And last year, _you_ agreed. So stop being such an arse about the whole thing.” Eli scowled, but Kate just pressed on, the way she always did. “Fine, yes, some of us will see each other more often, but with things the way they are, it’s important to stay under the radar as much as possible.”

Billy—who’d been following Teddy with his eyes in a way that was probably not supposed to be as obvious as it was—frowned at that. “Under the what?”

“Muggle term,” Teddy explained. He turned with a crooked smile and offered Billy a hand up. After staring at it for a solid six seconds, cheeks flushing, Billy slipped his hand into Teddy’s—then nearly went sprawling when the other boy tugged him up.

David bit the inside of his mouth to keep a straight face, even when Tommy caught his eye and made an elaborate show of gagging. “We’ll table the argument for now and come back to it once we’ve gotten a better bead on how the year is going to shake out,” he offered, remaining seated even as the others began to shuffle toward the door. Cassie and Nate left first—together, predictably. 

Eli stood by the door to wait his turn, still scowling. He nodded, however, at what David had to say, very deliberately not looking at where Kate was still standing, her arms crossed. “Fine,” he agreed. “I can live with that then.”

“Oh, you can _live_ with it, huh? Walk with me,” Kate added—ordered—snagging Eli’s arm as she stepped through the doorway. 

He balked. “I thought we were waiting to go ten minutes apart.”

She just shot him a level look. “We can wait at the base of the tower. This place smells like musty shite. Come on,” she added,” tugging on his arm again, practically dragging him after her. “You and I have a come to Jesus talk to get through.”

“Come to _who_?” Eli muttered grumpily, but he allowed Kate to drag him along behind her the way he always did. David hoped that was a good sign. Eli and Kate had been wonderfully combative friends before they’d become anything else—always competing against each other for the best grades, the most points, the highest scores in Quidditch. It had seemed inevitable that they’d finally take that fierce competitive spirit and make something romantic of it in sixth year. It had been just as inevitable that they’d crash and burn just a few weeks before summer break.

They were two of the leaders of this, and two of the best people David knew. It was going to be…unbearably awkward if they didn’t figure out how to be friends again.

“I guess I’ll…?” Teddy said, casting Tommy a quick look. Tommy just waved him off, too busy poking at the rustling owls.

“Good night, Teddy,” David said, offering a warm smile. “I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah,” Teddy said, smiling back. There weren’t any lights in the owlry, but the moon was high, pouring through the wide picture windows and catching in his golden hair; in the row of earrings he wore in deference to his Muggle culture. “I’m glad I came too. Um,” he added, swinging a look toward Billy; Billy quickly looked away before Teddy could catch him staring again. “Do you want to go downstairs with me to wait? Kate wasn’t wrong about the smell.”

Billy cleared his throat, shrugging a shoulder in a too-convincing approximation of disinterest. “Whatever,” he said, sounding—even though David _knew_ better—uncharacteristically blasé.

As though spending time with Teddy was some kind of chore he was reluctantly agreeing to. As if his heart wasn’t very likely trying to pound its way out of his chest right now. The funny thing was, David recognized that exact inflection, picked up from some of the cooler Slytherins that ran with Flint, likely meant to disguise just how desperately Billy wanted to spend more time with Teddy, and oh, _oh_ he could have warned Billy that this was a bad idea.

Teddy frowned, a flicker of confusion and hurt on his face, but he quickly glanced away to hide it.

 _Don’t be an idiot_ , David wanted to tell Billy. He tried to telegraph it through the intensity of his look, but Billy wouldn’t catch his eye. _This is why he keeps thinking you do not like him_. And this time, there wasn’t a convenient carriage to shut them in alone together so they could work it out.

“Well,” Teddy finally said after a too-long, awkward pause. “I’m going to ahead and head down, anyway. Uh, night everyone.” He gave a little wave that probably would have looked dorky coming from anyone else, then turned and strode out of the owlry, leaving Tommy by the coop, David still sitting on the low ledge, hands crossed in his lap, and Billy staring after him as if someone had kicked his kneazle.

There was a beat of silence as Teddy’s footsteps faded.

Then Tommy let out a gusting breath. “ _Oh my God_ , how can you share my face and still be such an idiot? Did I take all the brains as well as the good looks?” He shot David a glance, as if expecting a response.

David shrugged a single shoulder. “I haven’t noticed a particular abundance of either,” he said, voice desert-dry.

Tommy pointed at him. “I’ll remember you said that,” he warned, hopping down from the coop to join Billy. He jostled their shoulders together, dragging Billy’s attention back to him—before smacking him upside the head.

“What—ow!” Billy protested. He elbowed Tommy hard, but Tommy was too quick for him, already sidestepping around him…and smacking him _again_. “Ow! What the bloody hell is that for?”

“For being an idiot; God, keep up.”

“What Tommy is saying,” David interjected before things could escalate, “is that when you try to hide your crush on Teddy, you tend to overcompensate.”

Billy’s flush deepened, bloomed, spread across his cheeks and ears and neck like a crashing wave. “I—what?” he demanded, practically sputtering. “I don’t— I’m not— This isn’t—”

“Maybe you should go after him,” David added quietly, gently. He and Billy weren’t close, but… Billy shared Tommy’s face. It was impossible to look at him and not feel a certain amount of brotherly affection. Of investment in his happiness. “And the next time he invites you to do something you actually want to do, don’t try to hide your interest: say _yes_.”

“AKA,” Tommy added, pushing his robes back to shove his hands into his pockets. “Don’t try to play it cool: you’re really, really laughably bad at it.”

Billy just looked between them, visibly flustered. David couldn’t blame him, really. He and Tommy had been a team for so long—using their individual talents to form an undeniable whole—that they were a force to be reckoned with. It wasn’t vanity to note as much: it was undeniable truth.

 _Good cop, asshole cop_. That’s what Tommy liked to call it. David liked to think it was more about an unshakable friendship and unrelenting understanding and trust, but _understanding_ Tommy meant also _understanding_ that he wasn’t comfortable acknowledging his own emotions, so.

Good cop, asshole cop it was.

“He likes you,” David added, interrupting the increasingly awkward silence. Tommy was rocking back and forth on his heels, glaring down a flushed Billy. He was _enjoying_ this far too much; it was better if David did most of the talking. That was fine—he was used to it. “I wouldn’t say I’m an expert on these things, but I’d even venture that he _likes_ you. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t take advantage of that.”

“Take advantage of… He…” Billy sliced his hands through the air as if cutting off his own weak rambling. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He was still red as sunset when he looked up at David again, but his expression was earnest. “You really think he likes me?”

David began to smile. He leaned back against the cold stone, fingers threading together. Tommy, for his part, just rolled his eyes and wandered away again to bother the owls. “I do.”

“You’re…sure?”

“David is pretty much never wrong,” Tommy called over his shoulder. He was running his finger along the cages, teasing some of the more temperamental owls. The castle-based creatures were mostly sleepy and benign, but some of the students _preferred_ snapping beaks and jealous talons. David had once overheard Flint bragging that his owl demanded a pound of flesh for every letter safely delivered. “It’s annoying as fuck, but it can be useful sometimes too.”

“ _Sometimes?_ ” David said.

Tommy glanced over his shoulder, finger dangerously close to a golden-eyed Southern White-faced. “ _Sometimes_ ,” he agreed in a sing-song.

“You’re going to lose your finger,” David warned, “and I _will_ laugh at you.”

“After you carefully bandage my wounds and cry bitter tears over my pain.” Tommy blindly poked into the cage, laughing when Billy made a noise that came dangerously close to a growl. “Or magic me a new one. You know, if anyone could do it, I bet it’d be you.”

“ _Or_ I could make you a tiny little hook to wear at the end of your nub. _While_ laughing at you.”

Tommy grinned. “A hook-finger, huh? I could think of worse things. Will you polish it with those bitter, bitter tears as you dab away the blood and wipe my manly brow?”

“Would you,” Billy suddenly erupted, swinging between the two of them in clear annoyance. “Just. _Stop_. Stop. Freaking. _Flirting_. For _five minutes_ and give me a clear answer?”

There was a second of startled silence. Then: “Oh, gross,” Tommy protested, pulling a face. “Stop thinking the rest of us are as dumb as _you_. David’s my best mate; I’d never even think of—”

“That’s not what you told me last spring,” Billy shot back, shockingly cruel in his own blind angst. "You said he was stupid in love with you, and you were thinking you might feel the same."

Tommy went perfectly still; the Southern White-faced darted in for a vicious bite. Billy folded his arms across his skinny chest and glowered unrepentantly. _That_ was what pissed him off, David decided, a spark of fury slowly blooming in his chest. Not that Billy took a swing at something he had no hope of understanding, not that he shared something incredibly private that was—judging by Tommy’s increasingly red cheeks and the way he _would not_ look at David—meant to be kept in strict confidence, but that he did it blindly and with no remorse for no better reason than his own bruised pride. He wounded Tommy because _he_ felt wounded. He lashed out and hurt David’s best friend.

That was un-fucking-acceptable.

“I’m not sure what exactly is eluding your comprehension,” David said. He was aware his voice had dropped an octave. He was aware it sounded cold. He was aware there must have been that same chilly anger in his eyes, if the way Billy took a sudden step back was a reliable indication, but he _did not care_. Let Billy be afraid—he should be. Anyone who tried to hurt Tommy should be. “But if you could outline the limitations of your scope of understanding, perhaps I could find words small enough to make an impact.”

“David,” Tommy said, hesitating, _not looking at him_ even as he stepped forward. He dropped a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “It’s cool. He didn’t mean anything by it. It’s, whatever.”

“I’ll start with two,” David barreled on. This was as good a chance as any to make it _clear_ to the Slytherin who shared Tommy’s face that Tommy—despite being Muggle-born, despite parents who were barely worthy of being called as much, despite poverty and lack of opportunity and every bad hand the world had seen fit to deal him—was not without friends who had his back no matter _who_ threatened him. No matter _what_ they said.

“David,” Tommy tried again.

“I didn’t mean to,” Billy added, looking between them— _finally_ realizing the secret he’d spilled wasn’t so much a weapon as a bomb. They all three could hear it ticking.

David pressed on, standing. _Towering._ “Two very easy words even an _idiot_ could grasp: _Fuck. You_.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Now if you’re quit done, I suggest you run out that door and catch Teddy before he gets to spend another night being jerked around by you. And perhaps next time you will think before you speak. He doesn’t deserve the way you sometimes treat him.”

Even David couldn’t quite be sure which _he_ he meant.

Billy took another half-step back, nodding. He was pale now, cheeks blanched white as bone, eyes impossibly dark with regret. “Okay,” he said. He looked at Tommy, whose hand was still on his shoulder. “ _Tommy_. I’m so…”

Tommy shrugged a shoulder, but David could see the tension in the casual gesture. “Whatever,” he said. “It’s cool. You were pissed, you said something, it’s okay. It happens.”

“No,” David corrected, because if left to his own impulses, Tommy would bleed out for the people he loved. “It is not okay, and secrets freely given will _not_ be used against Tommy again.”

“They won’t,” Billy promised, earnest.

“David,” Tommy said, not looking at him. “Chill out.”

“Tommy,” David shot back, “ _make me_.”

That at least forced Tommy to look at him, surprise and then slow amusement growing in his eyes. He dropped his hand from Billy’s shoulder, chin tilting up in playful arrogance. David could still feel the strong eddies of tension threading between them, but at least Tommy wasn’t running. Nothing got patched up if Tommy ran. “Oh, you know I could. Come on, Billy, stop looking at me like you killed my dog,” he added, punching his not-brother on the shoulder. “Seriously: it’s cool. That was last spring.”

 _And last spring was a lifetime ago_. David kept his expression carefully neutral. “Go on,” he said, gentling his voice. There was no point in fighting with Billy when it was clear just how _sorry_ the other boy was. “We’ll see you at the next meeting.”

“If not earlier. _Dun dun dun_.” Tommy pushed at Billy playfully, but Billy wasn’t playing back. Instead, he was looking between the two of them, so earnest it almost hurt to see. “Seriously,” Tommy added. He glanced toward David, then stepped in and lowered his head, silver-blond hair sweeping forward to hide his eyes, face so close to Billy’s that it was like seeing a reflection in a lake. His lips moved, but not even David could make out what was being said.

He looked away so he wouldn’t be so horribly tempted to read their lips.

There was finally a soft footfall, and the sound of a robe brushing across the stone floors. Owls hooted in their cages as the far door opened and then closed. When David looked back, Tommy was standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, expression determined.

David waited him out. Hopeful? Afraid? He couldn’t say what he was feeling—only that it was much too much.

“So,” Tommy finally said. The word was drawled out in his thick Manchester accent. “Weird night, huh?”

David tipped his head, considering him. Was this the beginning of an explanation, or a graceful sidestep? “I’ve had weirder,” he finally decided on, moving closer.

Tommy didn’t move away…but then, he didn’t reach out, either. Whatever secret Billy had broken between them, it wasn’t going to send them crashing together or apart. The deep waters of their friendship were safe.

 _Deep waters hide sharp rocks_ , David thought. _Unexpected shoals have drowned sailors before._

Well. He was Ravenclaw. He’d figure it out.

And Tommy was still talking. Something more about House unity and maybe kicking Slytherin’s ass in Quidditch. David just smiled and refocused on the monologue as they fell in step as easy as breathing, the syncopated rhythm of their footsteps a metaphor he refused to let himself unravel.

 _That_ quaffle was securely in Tommy’s court. It was better if he didn’t let himself think about it.

_That’s not what you told me last spring._

David set his jaw and tilted his head toward Tommy, very carefully putting the thought aside. Later. He would worry about it later.


	7. Billy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing fan-nart.tumblr.com. Please check them out and tell them how awesome they are!

He spent a long, fitful night feeling like a complete dick.

Teddy hadn’t been at the base of the tower waiting for his chance to sneak out. There had been a big part of Billy that had hoped… Well, anyway, he was gone, and Billy had been forced to run down the clock while pacing back and forth, his stomach twisting into unpleasant shapes.

Okay, so he’d screwed up, but not as badly as he could have. Teddy…Teddy wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. Billy should know; he’d practically been stalking him for long enough to understand how the Hufflepuff boy worked. If Billy swallowed down his fear and nerves and just _admitted_ that he…that he liked Teddy, that he…

He…

“Uggggh,” Billy moaned. He curled up into a ball and squeezed his eyes shut against the early (early) pre-dawn light—then just as suddenly kicked away his blanket and huffed up at his green canopy.

David and Tommy were right. He just needed to marshal his courage and _tell_ Teddy how he felt. That was simple enough, right? People did it all the time! The worst that could happen was rejection.

Which…was pretty awful. And would be especially awkward now that both he and Teddy were working with the others to try to fix Hogwarts. And would probably be the absolute worst way to begin the school year, since there’d be no _escaping_ him, and Billy would have to spend every shared class, every meal, every Quidditch game moodily staring at Teddy’s perfect face knowing that he’d tried and Teddy had rebuffed him and, and, and.

Billy grabbed his pillow and yanked it over his face, soundlessly thrashing his heels on the mattress as he muffled his own angst. Then, huffing out a breath, he flung his pillow away and shoved his curtains aside, climbing out of bed. If he was going to be restlessly miserable, he might as well try to do something _productive_ with his time.

(Or at the very least go stare moodily somewhere _new_.)

The room was still dark, candelabra flames guttered low as they waited for the dawn. As the sun rose, they would grow brighter and brighter until the room was fully lit. He snagged one of the free-standing candelabra and his robes-and-wand on the way out, trudging up the cold stone steps to the common room.

It was empty this time of morning, of course, as cold and austerely beautiful as always. Greenish-blue light flickered on bare stone floors, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. At times like these, it felt almost like being underwater—fitting, Billy mused, considering they _were_. The dungeons were partially built under the lake itself, and the common room ceiling was nothing but beveled glass cross-cut by stone archways. You could lay on your back and stare up up up through the deepest, darkest hush of the lake and _feel_ its weight bearing down on you if you wanted.

You could stare up and feel like you were in a whole new world.

The ceiling was opaque now, as it almost always was—there was something unnerving about being so deep underwater, especially for the younger kids, so they kept the view shielded more often than not. But Billy had always found that feeling of being lost in the depths strangely thrilling; it was like that Muggle book his mother had brought home once, with the submarine and the sea monster. If he tuned out the sound of his fellow students stirring in their beds, he could almost imagine he was submerged, adrift. Floating and peaceful and remarkably free.

He set the candle on a rough stone outcropping and reached out to rap his knuckles in a familiar pattern against the nearest window. It was massive, taking up nearly an entire wall, silver calmes gleaming against the deep green glass. That green seemed to ripple and fade at his touch, however, going paler and paler as the window transitioned from opaque to translucent. Color shimmered and bled away to a hidden point at the crown of the ceiling, and between one breath and the next, the Slytherin common room was awash in a sea of dappled shadows and light.

Billy let out a breath, moving to flop on one of the heavy leather couches and stare up into the depths. There was occasional movement as a small school of fish swam by, brilliant bursts of color darting overhead. The rising sun created patterns on the distant surface. Algae moved in a slow, almost mesmeric dance, clinging along the outer base of the windows and framing this…this… _otherworldly_ place.

He tipped his chin back, sprawled comfortably, fingers tapping out a half-remembered rhythm on his stomach. His mother used to sing it whenever they went to the shore; Merlin, how did the lyrics go? _I’d like to be, under the sea—in an octopus’s garden in the shade_. Or…something. He’d probably gotten it all wrong. What would Muggles know about deep sea horticulture anyway?

…did octopuses even have gardens? Huh.

“Hagrid’ll know,” Billy assured himself, tapping out the rest of the half-remembered tune. Even better, Hagrid wouldn’t laugh at him for asking. He took everything about his beloved creatures seriously, magical or not. If he didn’t know, he’d find _out_. And—

Billy jerked up, startled, as a large dark form darted suddenly, shockingly close to the domed ceiling. It was little more than a blur, there and gone again—but he could have sworn he saw a bright thatch of hair and kicking _feet_.

Mercreatures? Probably.

He climbed up to his knees, straining to see, already grinning. The merfolk didn’t come this way often, so a sighting was rare. They probably had the area surrounding the Slytherin dome marked off to avoid moments just like this—curious wizard children gawking up at them as they swam like darting minnows through the deep. But, but, but, _wow_ , it was so cool those few times one happened to drift too close. Like looking into a whole new world and realizing that it was looking _back_.

“Come on,” Billy murmured, straining to peer through the dim. He scanned the entire dome, searching for a humanoid figure silhouetted against dappled light. A flash of color from hair or scale. A grimacing face. _Something_. “Come on, come on, come—yes!”

He jolted up to his feet, standing on the couch to get a better view as he spotted the blur of movement again. The merfolk was moving _fast_ , there and gone again, spearing through the water as if caught in freefall. A plume of bubbles followed in its wake, swirling water displaced by its sudden movement, and Billy bit his lip as he tried to find its shape. His heart was beating stupidly fast; he bounced anxiously on the leather couch, straining, straining…

And then he saw it.

No. _Him_. And then he saw _him_.

Near the bottom of the dome, where the ceiling curved into a translucent window. He was leaning against the glass, one hand pressed there as if steadying himself. Those human-looking hands were delicately webbed, a shimmering gold connective tissue stretched between strong-looking fingers. A pattern of gold-and-palest-metallic-green scales chased up the underside of muscular forearms, spanning across thick biceps and powerful shoulders once they hit the elbow—like a Muggle tattoo. They rippled down his back, narrowing across his shoulder blades to form a V, scales continuing unbroken along the curve of his spine to… To…

To a pair of Weird Sisters _boxers_?

“What the fuck?” Billy demanded, _staring_. And either the merman heard him or just _sensed_ him watching, because he suddenly turned his head in response—and oh, oh fuck no, no way, no _way_ was that _Teddy Altman_ leaning against the domed glass of the Slytherin common room, golden hair drifting about a face that was almost too beautiful for words, blue eyes _glowing_ with preternatural brightness.

He turned fully, bubbles swirling around parted lips and a delicate line of gils that followed the curve of his perfect chest, and stared at the glass with furrowed brows. The curious expression was so completely _Teddy_ that Billy’s legs actually gave out in his shock. He collapsed into the couch, still staring, mouth agape and heart beating out a crazy staccato in his chest as Teddy— _Teddy_ —ran his beautifully webbed hands across the curving window.

 _He can’t see me_ , Billy thought, dazed. And that realization was what had him stumbling up and over to where Teddy was so casually floating. He felt like he was trapped in a dream as he reached out to touch the glass—tentatively, then with a sudden urgent pressure. It was cool against his palms and his own face reflected back at him, transposed over Teddy’s too-perfect one.

He was, he, _Merlin_ , he was—

He was so gorgeous it felt a little like going insane.

Billy pressed his body against the glass, desperate to meld through it, to—to _shatter_ it, or liquefy it, or or or something, anything to _be out there_ with Teddy. To touch. He needed to _touch_ him without the damned glass in the way, and if he only knew the spell…

He sucked in a shaken breath and slammed his fist once against the glass, as if that could somehow be powerful enough to punch through. Teddy jerked back at the sound, visibly startled. The gills lining the (very human) curve of his abs fluttered, lifting in the water a glorious near-transparant gold, and and and fuck, _fuck_ Billy wanted to press his mouth to them; he wanted to kiss across those beautifully scaled shoulders and bite his jaw; he wanted to run his tongue over the delicately pointed ears visible as _shining_ golden hair lifted in a sunburst corona and—

With a sudden swirl of water and a line of trailing bubbles, Teddy was gone.

“ _No_ ,” Billy moaned, beating his fist against the glass again. His heart felt like it was _breaking_ , like it had been ripped from his chest, and he would do anything, anything not to feel this way. He would drown himself a thousand times over, would chain himself to the bottom of the lake just to see that gold-and-green figure passing over him like the final taste of hope, would…

Would…

Would.

He dropped to the stone hard, legs giving out again. Mind very slowly drifting out of the fog it had lost itself in. He stared down at his bare legs, then up at the lake placid and dark above him. His dangerously racing heart gradually began to slow.

What the _fuck_ had just happened?

“Hallucination,” Billy told himself, his voice coming out in a croak. Right? It had to be. Or a dream. Or… But, if he dropped his head into his hands and _squeezed_ his eyes shut, he could still see that too-beautiful face. The figure gleaming in the dim like a distant star, shedding its own perfect, radiant light. And if he somehow forced himself to concentrate past the ringing in his ears (like a song; like something too pure for this world), he could almost remember seeing something like this _before_.

The memories were strange, broken, but he swore he could recall walking along the lake long after curfew. Nervous about…something. A test? And—stopping by the lake. Bending to grab a rock and skip it along the surface. Seeing a flash of pure sunlight drifting amongst the dark and _losing his mind_ as if being sucked into a powerful undertow. He’d…swum out? Tried to dive down to it? Something. _Something._ He couldn’t remember what, but he’d tried to _something_ , lungs filling with lakewater, body going light as a breeze…and then there were hands gripping his arms and he was being slammed against the rolling grass and, and, _Teddy Altman_ was leaning over him with a wild look on his normal Muggle-born face. Scared and horrified and so sad it hurt to see even as he leaned in for a kiss—

—and Billy, lungs filling with air, had thrown up half the lake, barely missing landing it all on the Hufflepuff boy’s bare chest.

That had all happened…right? It wasn’t just a dream, like this one? Merlin, it was all so broken and hazy, he couldn’t be sure. All he _could_ be sure about was that he needed to get out to the lake _now_ —hopefully this time not to drown himself.

Billy scrabbled up, his legs still wobbly but his determination stronger. He half-staggered, half-ran past the cluster of dark couches, grabbing his robe and wand along the way. He didn’t bother to revert the ceiling and windows, leaving them for whatever Slytherin woke next. Instead, he stuffed his arms into sleeves and _bolted_ out the common room door, bare feet slapping against stone and robe streaming behind his pajama-clad form as he ran.

By all rights, he should have been caught by Filch or Loki the poltergeist or any number of unpleasant traps set to snare unwary students out after curfew. But it was so close to dawn that the castle’s defenses were relaxing and he was lucky—so, so, unbelievably _lucky_. He slipped out one of the many side doors students who liked to jog before class used and let it slam behind him as he streaked across the grass. He felt more than a little unhinged, but he knew he _had_ to hurry if he wanted to see (even if his mind wouldn’t completely settle on what it was he would be seeing).

He skated around the long bend of the castle, breath coming in pants, wind whipping through his hair, his robe, bare toes digging in cool dew-covered grass before finally— _finally_ —turning the corner and spotting the lake. He stumbled to a halt.

It was cast in shades of gold from the only-just-rising sun. The sky was a burst of pinks and reds and lavenders and violets, the last of the stars still visible if he tipped his face up. The shore was broken up by old trees, a few (non-whomping) willows dangling their fingers in the water as if testing its heat, and there… There, silhouetted as he tugged on a pair of trousers was a _very_ familiar figure.

Billy sucked in a breath, almost frightened for a moment. But he shook away that fear and tipped forward into a run again, awkwardly long legs eating up the distance between them as if it were nothing. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see Teddy as…as _Teddy_ , or Teddy as that strange probably-a-hallucination siren version of himself, but the feeling that welled up inside him when Teddy looked up with a start and was _himself_ didn’t feel anything at all like disappointment.

Teddy stared at him, open shock and worry on his handsome-but-totally-not-crazymaking-gorgeous face as Billy raced full-tilt toward him. For one uncertain moment, Billy himself wasn’t sure he was going to _stop_ running. Like maybe his mind really had checked out and his body was going to send him crashing into Teddy’s in a gangling, painful, glorious mess of limbs.

But he did begin to slow as he neared, then skidded to a stop just a foot or two away. He was panting hard, skinny chest rising and falling, robes open around him to reveal red (not green, but _red_ , in some sick defiance he never could seem to fully control) pajamas.

And bare feet.

If he reached up to touch his hair, it was probably snarled and standing straight up. Merlin, no wonder Teddy was staring at him like that.

“… _hi_ ,” Billy managed, panting. Staring _back_ at Teddy with an urgency he couldn’t quite contain. Then, because he’d obviously left his ability to not be pathetically awkward back in the Slytherin common room: “Going for an early morning dip?”

He immediately curled his shoulders forward as if he could force himself to sink into the ground by embarrassment alone. _Going for an early morning dip? What in Merlin’s name is your damage?_

Teddy just blinked at him, still visibly started—and half-dressed. There was a big, _big_ part of Billy that was busy noticing that too. “Um!” he said, blushing. He looked out toward the lake, then to his pile of neatly folded clothes, then toward the castle. As if he were deciding where and how to make a break for it. “Just…yes. Just. Morning exercise; you know.”

“No,” Billy said. “I have no idea. I only run if someone’s chasing me. Or if there’s—” He gestured before he could stop himself, then nearly _died_ on the spot. Because, oh yes, it was incredibly obvious what that gesture toward Teddy’s bare-and-glistening-wet chest meant: _or if there’s a hot half-naked guy on the other end_. “Um! Hi. Sorry. I’m…still waking up.”

“Oh,” Teddy said. “Um. Okay. I mean—I don’t know what I mean. But I should probably…” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and started to walk away—not toward any particular entrance to the castle, but just _away_ —before suddenly rounding back. “First, right, clothes. I’ll need… _clothes_ ,” Teddy added, bending to grab his shirt, tie, neatly folded robe. He was blushing harder now, red spanning across his cheeks and down his chest like a drop of ink dissolving into water.

 _Beautiful_. And maybe it was the sight of that blush that finally unglued Billy’s tongue, or maybe it was the shared awkwardness of the moment—as if Teddy wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself either—or maybe it was just the memory of that surreal sight his mind was _still_ trying to tell him wasn’t real, but: “I saw you,” Billy blurted.

Teddy went very still.

“Not many other Houses know this,” he continued, “but Slytherin juts out under the lake. The common room has a domed ceiling, and um…”

“Oh, fuck,” Teddy breathed, blush seeping away to something deathly pale.

“…we usually keep it opaque, but it _can_ go clear. And this morning I was kind of just, um, restless, so I decided to…like cloudwatch, but underwater? And I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye…”

Teddy shook his head once, hard.

“…kind of like it was darting by. I figured it was one of the merfolk or something? I mean, it was too small to be the squid, but too big to be a fish. And I looked and looked and finally saw…”

The other boy jerked back, then suddenly turned on his heel and made as if to _bolt_ toward the castle. Billy leaped forward, just barely snagging Teddy’s elbow in time. He held on and dug in his heels, yanking him back from what could only be a panicked run. “I saw _you_!” Billy said, voice rising. He swallowed and made himself drop back to a quieter tone, feet planted against the grass and fingers curled around Teddy’s tense bicep. The other boy was turned away from him, the line of his body still as marble. He probably could have shoved Billy off him if he didn’t mind hurting him; the fact that he didn’t made something warm begin to unfold in Billy’s chest. “I saw you leaning against the glass, and… And you were so beautiful.”

Teddy made a strangled noise, _finally_ turning his head to look at him. His brows drew into an inverted V, expression torn between terrified and absolutely _baffled_. “You _saw me_ ,” he said, slowly, “and all you have to say is you thought I was _beautiful_?”

Billy shrugged one shoulder awkwardly. “I guess I’m shallow? _Wait_ ,” he added when Teddy tried to pull away again. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I know I’m making an utter bungle of this. I have been for going on years now, haven’t I?”

“What are you _talking_ about?” There was a hint of hysteria in the question, as if Teddy were barely holding on. Merlin, Billy could relate.

“Sit down,” he said, giving a gentle tug. Then he showily let go—lifting his hands to prove he wouldn’t force Teddy to stay if he didn’t want to before sinking down onto the soft grass. The sun was above the horizon now, kissing Teddy’s hair and skin in shades of gold. Like he was under the water again, and Billy shivered at the memory, stomach twisting into complicated knots. “Please,” he added, quieter.

Teddy closed his eyes, head tipped forward. He drew in a long, slow breath. Then, miracle of miracles, he dropped the bundle of his robe and tie and sank down onto the grass next to Billy, fingers absently fumbling his shirt the rest of the way on.

 _Oh, you don’t have to do that_ , Billy wanted to say, but he bit back the words. He’d already shoved his foot into his mouth one too many times this morning already. Instead, he just leaned back on his hands and tried to breathe normally.

…it was funny how hard it was to do anything at all when you were focusing so hard on doing it _normally_.

Teddy finishing buttoning the last of the buttons, leaving his shirt untucked. He was barefoot, Billy noticed. Merlin, but he had pretty feet. He had pretty everything. It was possible Billy was still dazed by the memory of his wet chest and…other things. “So,” Teddy began, voice low and a little rough. “I guess now you know.”

“Yeah,” Billy breathed. Then: “Wait, no. What? What do I know?”

The noise Teddy made was somewhere near both a laugh and a sob, and Billy immediately reached out to touch his knee, wanting to _comfort_ him somehow. _It’s okay_ , he wanted to soothe. _Whatever it is, it’s okay. It’s just_ me _._

As if _it’s just me_ meant anything at all to Teddy. As if he even knew Billy had been all but in love with him for years.

“What you saw,” Teddy said. “Me.” Then he looked up through his lashes, eyes seeming to brighten—to _glow_ , shining impossibly blue, like they had beneath the lake. They were brighter than any light, bluer than any sky—like sparks of pure magic. Billy sucked in a breath, heart beginning to pound all over again at the sight of those unearthly eyes in Teddy’s familiar face.

“Teddy,” Billy began on a whisper.

But Teddy wasn’t finished. “The fact,” he said slowly, as if testing out words he wasn’t used to saying, “that I’m not exactly human.”


	8. Teddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter by the amazing Cris-art. Please check her out at cris-art.tumblr.com. She has lots more Billy/Teddy Harry Potter art and _so_ much more!

_The fact that I’m not exactly human._

It was a strange relief to say those words out loud—a _release_ , as if they’d been slowly building pressure inside his chest for years. Confessing, sharing, unburdening… _whatever_ this was…felt terrifying and wonderful. Like a thousand pounds had finally been lifted from his shoulders. He’d held on to this secret for _so long_ that it was a palpable relief to finally let go. Whatever Billy said or did now, it couldn’t possibly be as hard to bear as the fear of discovery had been. So Teddy let out a breath, shoulders relaxing a degree as he waited for Billy’s reaction, whatever it might be.

It didn’t come.

In fact, Billy was just watching him. He didn’t pull back in alarm, he didn’t gasp, he didn’t even _blink._ As if he was told classmates were beasts every day, and…and…and _what was going on?_ Teddy frowned, leaning forward, but Billy just tipped forward as well, lips parting in what could only be read as welcome.

Teddy flushed and sat back again. This wasn’t going exactly how he’d imagined it. “Um,” he said, squirming a little, something very much like fireworks of awareness going off in his belly. It was unnerving and flattering to be the subject of such intense focus, of such obvious _attraction_. Especially coming from Billy. “So. Now you know,” he said, looking down before shyly glancing up through his lashes again.

Billy was still tipped forward, gaze dropping from Teddy’s eyes to his lips and back again, as if he were thinking of, of, of _kissing him._ Teddy had to look away, flustered and flushed and _pleased_ despite himself. He’d never been allowed this kind of intimacy before, always aware of the secret he needed to keep, but… But Billy knew, and Billy wasn’t running; Billy was, in fact, leaning _closer,_ staccato breathing audible, as if he were psyching himself up to try to steal a kiss.

Oh _Merlin_ , Teddy wanted to be kissed.

Teddy glanced back at Billy, cheeks burning hot, wondering what he had to do to telegraph his return interest. Should he…lean forward too? Open up his body language? Say something? He’d watched countless friends pair up over the years, but despite casual interest others had shown him, he’d _never—_ He— Billy was just—

Teddy rubbed the back of his neck, feeling increasingly awkward as the seconds ticked by in silence. Maybe he was reading this wrong. Was he reading this wrong? He stole a glance. No, there was no way he was reading this wrong—not with the way Billy was looking at him. Merlin. He knew his human guise was attractive, but the way Billy looked at him made him feel so much more than that, and he _wasn’t sure how to respond_. No one had ever _liked_ him before. But _Billy_ was studying his face as if he were soaking him in. As if he could never get enough. _Dazed_ and dazzled and—

And—

And…

And _fuck_ , Teddy suddenly had a pretty good idea what was going on, and it had nothing to do with anything so natural as attraction.

Stomach sinking, heart practically breaking, Teddy covered his face with his hands and concentrated on the _shift_. He was usually so very good at keeping his true features hidden, but something about Billy got under his skin the way nothing else ever had. Merlin, no wonder Billy was looking at him like that. He didn’t like Teddy; he was just _charmed_ by his stupid powers.

When he dropped his hands again, features wholly human, Billy was blinking rapidly as if coming out of a dream. _Or a compulsion_ , Teddy thought with a sour twist of his stomach. It just figured, didn’t it? “Sorry,” he said, leaning as far back from Billy as he could—resting his weight on his palms. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“No,” Billy said. His voice came out hushed and a little raw. “That was bloody brilliant. Your eyes are so—”

“I know,” Teddy said. “They’re mesmeric. I wasn’t trying to—”

“So _pretty_ ,” Billy finished, immediately flushing at the admission. But he didn’t look away, sharp chin lifted defiantly. “Your eyes are _pretty_.”

That was reason enough for pause. “Pretty?” Teddy said, slowly.

The flush crept higher up Billy’s cheeks, staining his too-prominent ears a bright berry red. “Uh, beautiful? Gorgeous? A very manly attractive?” He flapped one hand between them, entire face flaming scarlet. “I don’t know! Whatever you find least offensive to your masculinity!”

Teddy blinked and leaned forward again. Every time he thought he understood where things were going with this strange boy, Billy threw him another curveball. “I don’t have masculinity to speak of,” he said, then quickly course-corrected. “I mean, I do physically, but I’m not particularly attached to— I—” He frowned, studying Billy’s face closely. Those eyes were locked on his again, fixed but not _charmed._ And yet the way he drank Teddy in was almost as intense as if he _were_ charmed. As if he couldn’t look his fill, even when Teddy looked perfectly ordinary. “You’re very confusing,” Teddy finally landed on.

“ _I’m_ confusing?” Billy said on a shaky laugh. _Leaning._ “I have no idea what’s even going on right now.”

“Well,” Teddy said, drawn into Billy’s orbit so pathetically easy, “neither do I.”

Billy didn’t respond…but his eyes dropped down, then jerked back up again.

They were a breath or two away—more than close enough to kiss—and Teddy could feel each hot breath against his cheeks. He stared into Billy’s dark eyes, his own breath held, waiting. Uncertain. What was it about this boy that left him so unsure of himself? _You have pretty eyes too_ , Teddy wanted to say, but he couldn’t quite force out the words. _Will you kiss me now?_ But he couldn’t exactly say that, now could he?

So he was silent, and Billy was silent, until finally Billy sat back on a stuttery, embarrassed laugh, breaking the moment. “So, uh, now that we’ve acknowledged that neither of us has any idea what is going on,” he said, plucking absently at grass and looking out across the lake. “Why don’t you tell me more about, um, what you are?”

Teddy slowly retreated again, stomach doing disappointed somersaults. “All right,” he said, keeping his tone perfectly even by sheer willpower. “It’s only fair, I guess.”

“Wait,” Billy added, suddenly jerking to look at him. Teddy’s heart gave an irrational spike, but Billy just said, “I want you to know first that I promise to, um, not tell anyone. I mean, I know you’re hiding it, and I know _why—_ those stupid wizarding laws; I _know,_ I _get it_ —and I just want you to know that I wouldn’t betray you to anyone. I mean,” he gave a shaky laugh, “we’re friends, right?”

_Friends_. “Yeah,” Teddy said. “We’re—thank you.”

Billy spread his hands. “Just being a decent person, sort of. I mean, yay for proving Slytherins aren’t a giant bag of dicks.”

“No,” Teddy said automatically, “just the fun size variety.” Then he flushed. “Sorry.”

But Billy was just grinning, wide and sunny. “Fun size dicks. I have no idea what that means, but I like it.”

“It’s a Muggle thing,” Teddy explained, then cocked his head. “…sort of.”

“Merlin, I need to pay more attention in Muggle Studies!” And somehow they were laughing together, bright and uncomplicated, as if Teddy weren’t in the process of sharing his greatest secret. As if there wasn’t this strange, messy history and tension between them. “So,” Billy added after a moment, leaning back on one hand and smiling encouragement.

Teddy smiled back, softened. _Relaxed_ , somehow. “So,” he echoed. “Um. I guess I’ll start at the beginning.”

“A very good place to start,” Billy hummed, then flapped a hand at him. “Sorry, sorry. I do listen in Muggle Studies _sometimes_. Continue.”

Teddy folded his legs beneath him, watching the breeze ruffle Billy’s dark hair with a slowly expanding warmth. An… _affection_ , dangerous as that was.

Or was it? Billy already _knew_. What more was there to hide?

He looked down, clearing his throat. Flustered by the hope that thought gave him. “My mother is—was— _is_ a siren,” he explained slowly. “Salt-water. Which is… You know the difference?” he asked, glancing up from beneath his lashes to check Billy’s expression. “Between fresh-water and salt-water?”

Billy cocked his head. “The, um, merfolk who live in the lake are fresh-water.”

“Right,” Teddy said. “They’re like…distant cousins. Relations, but not _close_ relations. They tolerate me in their lake, but they don’t exactly like it. I’m too…” He gestured to his own face helplessly.

“What,” Billy said, “hot?”

He flushed. “ _No_ ,” Teddy laughed, stomach flipping over again. “Human-looking. We were offered _being_ status, you know,” he added quickly, before Billy could derail him again. “The sirens. But the Council refused to offer full status to our fresh-water cousins—they’re wilder than the sirens are, now. They refuse to conform to wizarding norms. They’re…”

He looked out across the placid water, lips twisting in a soft, wistful smile. “Free,” he finally decided on. “Proud. They wouldn’t have accepted _being_ status even if it had been offered. And the sirens decided that even if we have more in common with wizards than merfolk, we wouldn’t accept half measures. We refused too.”

Teddy glanced back at Billy, stomach flip-flopping for a whole new reason now. “So I’m not supposed to be here at Hogwarts because I guess you could say—I mean, I _know_ you could say—that even though I can use magic and pretty much look like anyone else here, I’m actually just another of Hagrid’s magical creatures.”

“Wizarding law is such bullshit,” Billy breathed, then flushed when Teddy gave a startled laugh. “Well!” he said. “It is. I’ve known you for a few years now, and you’re the nicest, friendliest, most helpful, most…most _Hufflepuff_ wizard I’ve ever met.”

Teddy laughed harder, insides bright as stars.

“Seriously, take it from the least popular Slytherin—you’re like the, the uber-Hufferpuff. _Everyone_ likes you. Even Flint said you were a passably decent Quidditch player, and coming from Marcus _Flint_ , that’s practically a tongue-bath.”

“ _Ew_ ,” Teddy said, cracking up, glowing inside.

Billy leaned forward on his elbows, grinning hard—mission accomplished, whatever it had been. “So your mother is a siren,” he prompted after a few moments of comfortable shared ease. “What about your father?”

“Veela,” Teddy said. After what came before, this was almost easy.

Billy’s brows knit, and Teddy knew what he was going to say before he said it. “Uh, okay. But—and I’m sorry if this is completely ignorant, but—aren’t all Veela female?”

“Biologically female,” Teddy said. “He was.” He didn’t explain farther, and to Billy’s credit, he didn’t seem to need more. “Mom’s a shapeshifter—all sirens are. They go, you know, between having tails or legs, between whatever gender or appearance or whatever they want.”

“Okay,” Billy said, absorbing that quickly. “Can you do that too? Shapeshift?”

“Yes. Though mostly I just use it to hide the glamor. _You_ know,” he added at Billy’s cocked head.

“No, I… Oh.” He paused. “The whole glowy, makes me want to try to, um, drown myself to be near you thing.”

Teddy flushed and looked down, ashamed. “Twice now,” he said. “That first time we’d really met, you’d spotted me in the water in my, um, real form, and…”

He winced. “I was half convinced I’d dreamed that up,” Billy admitted. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t how I, uh, wanted to make an impression.”

“ _You’re_ sorry?” On impulse, Teddy caught one of Billy’s hands between his own. “You have nothing— _nothing_ —to be sorry about. _I’m_ the one who nearly got you killed. _I’m_ the one who was careless and—Just because I, what, wanted to relax for a few minutes? You could have died and it would have been all my fault and I…”

He trailed off slowly, blinking down into Billy’s upturned face. They were tipped close together again, and Billy’s expression was impossible to read. “I,” Teddy began, only to stutter off, stymied. It was hard to focus on his remorse when the other boy was looking at him like _that._ “I’m not sure what to make of your expression right now,” Teddy finally admitted, settling on honesty.

Billy began to smile— _shyly_. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I should be listening, and I promise I’ll focus soon, but I just can’t because…”

“What?” he asked, suddenly needing to know what this strange wizard boy was thinking more than he needed anything—air or sunlight on water or the sound of his mother’s laughter in the surf. “You _what?_ ”

Billy ducked his head, a tangle of dark hair falling over one eye. “You’re holding my hand,” he confessed, voice pitched very low. _Sweet_ and _earnest_ and impossibly hopeful.

Teddy’s heart skipped for a stunned, shining moment—and then it began to race, running wild in his chest.

“Sorry,” Billy added again, beginning to tug his hand free.

Teddy tightened his grip impulsively—but when Billy’s breath caught, he very carefully, very deliberately, turned his hand over, threading their fingers together. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice husky. “Yeah, I am.”

“Does this,” Billy began, then went silent. He looked down at their clasped hands ( _such a simple gesture_ , Teddy thought, bordering on excited hysterics, _to feel so significant_ ). “Do you— Am I— Should—” He stopped again, words all running together, then gave a huffing laugh. “I promise I can speak—in full sentences, even. I just…”

Billy glanced at Teddy through his lashes, grip on his fingers going tighter. “I really wanted to go wait downstairs with you last night,” he said.

Teddy wet his lips. “You did?” As confessions went, it was nowhere near as significant as his own had been, but it felt strangely just as weighty. As _important_ , if not in the overall scheme of things, then at least in this…this _whatever_ that was finally brewing between them.

(This _whatever_ that had been coming for a long, long time.)

“I’ve liked you— _liked_ you—for pretty much forever,” Billy admitted. “Since before the lake, if that’s what you’re going to suggest. I’ve wanted to get the chance to talk to you for ages now, but I never could seem to work up the nerve. And then suddenly we were thrown together and I wanted to have the guts to tell you all these things I was thinking, but, um, I wasn’t sure how. And because I wasn’t sure, I was an idiot, and because I was an idiot, I hurt your feelings, and, and I guess you know the rest. And then I saw you this morning like _half-naked_ so I guess my brain broke, because that is the only explanation for why I’m able to sit here and _hold your hand_ and tell you all this, so.” He waved his free hand, all of him flushed so adorably red it was all Teddy could do not to lean in and brush their mouths together at last. “Huzzah for broken brains, I guess.”

“Wow,” Teddy said, and Billy laughed. “No, seriously— _wow_. Are you sure you’re not Gryffindor after all?”

Billy gave him a little shove, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he got closer, inching around until they were sitting side by side staring out at the water instead of facing off like awkward dance partners. His shoulder bumped against Teddy’s and they shifted their hands, settling easily between the valley of their legs.

A soft morning wind blew, sending ripples across dark water.

“Seriously,” Teddy murmured. “Maybe the hat sorted you wrong.”

“You’re not so charming that I won’t kick your ass for that,” Billy warned, but he was leaning against him, smiling, _warm_. They were pressed knee to shoulder and all their secrets were out, exposed between them like river rocks—smooth with time and new understanding.

“I like you too,” Teddy said, dipping his head so the wind couldn’t steal the soft murmur. “A lot. A _lot_ a lot. I have ever since the lake.”

“Since you saved me from drowning,” Billy said, hushed too.

Teddy made a face. “Since I saved you from drowning after _I_ nearly drowned you.”

“Since you saved me from drowning after I nearly drowned _myself_ over how hot you are without a shirt. What?” he added with an only slightly flustered grin at Teddy’s started look. “I thought we were doing the whole _let’s be honest_ thing. And being painfully honest: I babble like an _idiot_ when I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous? You shouldn’t be nervous.”

Billy’s eyes were the warmest color he’d ever seen. He’d never felt like this before. Effervescent and anxious and happy and self-conscious all at once. What a strange, _strange_ half-hour this morning had brought him. “I like you so much that you make me nervous,” Billy said, trying to shrug a shoulder as if it weren’t a big deal. Teddy knew better; everything that was happening between them from moment to strange, wonderful moment was a very big deal. “This all seems too easy to me. Part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“This wasn’t _easy_ ,” Teddy said, but he lifted Billy’s hand up and into his lap, dragging his thumb over a pale tracery of veins. “Coming out to you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“It seems to be going pretty okay so far,” Billy managed, voice going breathy. Light. _Hot_.

Teddy licked his lower lip, eyes dropping to Billy’s mouth again. _Now_ , he thought, wondering if he should lean in or wait for Billy to lean first. It seemed like such an inevitability: he’d confessed his secrets, he’d laid himself bare, he’d admitted to so much…and Billy still wanted to be around him. Billy still _wanted him_ period. _Now would be a good time for a kiss_.

He didn’t lean forward; Billy didn’t lean forward. Neither of them seemed to quite know how to bridge that gap.

“I want you to, um, know,” Billy finally said after a long, awkwardly drawn-out silence. “Like…seriously know, not just say you know… I mean, I really, _really_ like you.”

Teddy tipped his head. “You said,” he began, but Billy turned toward him, fingertips catching against his lips—and Teddy was so shocked by the sudden contact that he froze, lips parted and eyes wide.

“No, I _mean_ … I like _you_ ,” Billy stressed. “And I want you to know that. Not I think you’re attractive—though you are—or I think your, um, other form is mind-bendingly gorgeous—though it is—but I want you to know that I also think you’re funny and smart and sweet and, um, just… If birds came and pecked out my eyes and ripped off my junk, I’d still be pretty stupid over you.”

Teddy paused. Paused. Tipped his head.

Billy lightly coughed and dropped his hand from Teddy’s pursed lips. “Sorry,” he said. “I mentioned you made me nervous, right? And I babble? When I’m nervous?”

“No, no,” Teddy said—and it felt good to laugh again, even though that thrumming awareness was still there between them. That urge to just…lean forward and… “It was a perfectly nice speech until the birds.”

“It usually is,” Billy said, darkly—and that was wonderful and silly enough that Teddy actually did begin to lean in, eyes dropping to Billy’s mouth. _Intent_. Focused. Burning up inside as Billy caught on and gasped aloud, then immediately tipped forward too in the most wonderfully obvious welcome _ever_ , and—

“Teddy!” Eli called from somewhere not nearly far enough away.

Teddy jerked back fast, letting go of Billy’s hand by instinct; Billy scrambled up as he stood, just as startled and flushed-red and disoriented by the poorly-timed interruption. “Merlin, are you _kidding_ me?” Billy muttered, but before Teddy could agree, he caught sight of Eli _sprinting_ across the grass toward them, and something about the other boy’s face…

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, mostly to himself. Billy looked up at him, startled, then back at Eli—his brows slamming together as he saw it too. “What’s wrong?” Teddy called, louder, jerking into a sudden headlong run to meet Eli partway.

Eli was covered in sweat, eyes wide and wild. He looked as if he’d stumbled across a Dementor, and Teddy caught his arm as he crashed to a stop, choking on his desperate breaths. He was _shaking_ , Teddy realized with dawning horror, catching Eli’s shoulder and steadying him. His whole strong body trembled in palpable fear.

“Eli,” Teddy said, helpless.

Standing in his pajamas, barefoot, Billy said as bravely as any Gryffindor: “It’s all right. Whatever it is, we’ll fight it together, okay?” and Teddy fell a little bit more in love with him.

But he didn’t have time to focus on the warmth that came from those words because Eli was grabbing his arm, Eli was stuttering out, “She’s, I was, I was on my morning run and I saw her and—”

“ _Eli_ ,” Teddy said. He’d never seen the other boy like this. He’d always been so cool, so collected. The consummate leader even before he had been made Head Boy. “What’s wrong? Who did you see?”

Eli shook his head; the sweat was streaming into his eyes, and he looked close to vomiting across the grass. The beautiful morning was broken all around them. Fear had replaced his growing sense of peace. “ _Kate_ ,” Eli managed. He’d run so hard, he’d lost all but the last of his breath. “I came around the corner and I saw _Kate_. Frozen there. She, she was—”

Eli swallowed, and Teddy almost clapped his hands over his mouth to stop him before he could say the rest—somehow knowing that whatever came next would shape the course of their lives forever. He shared a look with Billy and saw the same fear there…and the same resolve.

“She was what, Eli?” Billy said, softly. Gathering strength.

Eli looked between them, wild dark eyes reflecting a horror neither could understand. Not yet. “Kate,” he said, closing the chapter on one part of their lives and opening another, “has been turned to _stone_.”


	9. David

Tommy was silent all the way back from the infirmary.

Despite the urge to say something—anything—comforting, David kept his peace. There was a pattern to Tommy’s heartbreak. A…map, in a way, as if disappointment had been laid over his soul again and again until the grooves were carved so deep they were closer to canyons. It was a wonder it hadn’t warped him beyond repair.

(He supposed if he were less observant, or simply didn’t care as much, he might have fallen into the trap of believing that to be the case. Merlin knew some of their stupider peers had.)

Whatever the case, David was good with patterns, and he was good with _Tommy_. He kept his eyes on the stone they crossed and let the other boy stew in silence as they slipped from Kate’s bedside up to the winding steps and into the owrly. The others hadn’t arrived yet—they were taking their turns by her petrified form—and the owls hooted in surprised greeting, feathers rustling like leaves in the wind.

Tommy’s shoulders twitched in response.

Against his better judgment, David reached out to touch his shoulder, but Tommy jerked away with an angry snarl. “Shove off!” he snapped, whirling on David. Pale blond brows were puckered and his face had flushed Gryffindor red.

David let his hand fall. “I’m sorry,” he said, but Tommy was already pushing close, getting up into his space—bristling with frightened belligerence. “Tommy—”

“I was going to ask her out, you know,” Tommy said, glowering up at him. Practically vibrating. “Kate. I was going to ask her out.”

“Okay,” David said, as gently as possible.

Tommy pushed even closer, near enough their chests were almost touching, their breaths were… David bit the inside of his mouth, struggling to control the instinct to fill his lungs with the long-familiar scent cast from Tommy’s skin. It was rare he was allowed to be so close—as tactile as Tommy could be, those moments were unexpected, fleeting: a sudden meteor shower of affection, there and gone and absolutely devastating—and he wanted to soak it in.

But.

That wouldn’t be right. Not when Tommy was lashing out in such obvious, confounded pain. Like an animal with its foot caught in the trap, snapping its teeth at its would-be rescuer. “What?” Tommy demanded, pushing back against David’s (breath-held, body-still) silence. “You don’t have anything to say to that?”

Despite years of friendship and a growing appreciation for the neuroses that made this boy tick, there wasn’t a script for this kind of situation. _Come on, genius_ , he thought, resisting the urge to step back; if he did, Tommy would just push into his space again. _Kate’s been petrified and Tommy’s falling apart. What does he need, and how do you give it to him?_

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally said, settling for the truth.

Tommy just scowled and turned away, pacing toward the far window. “Bullshit,” he all but snarled. “You always know everything. Isn’t that what you want us to believe? That you know everything?”

He was angry; he was scared; he was lashing out, and David was simply a convenient target. Somehow, knowing the truth of a thing didn’t make it less painful. “You know that’s not fair, Tommy,” he said, quietly following his friend into the room.

“Bullshit,” he said again, though he didn’t turn back from the window. Then, as if picking up the thread of his attack: “I was going to ask her out, and you don’t have _anything_ to say about it?”

Merlin, but he wished Eli were here. Sometimes what Tommy needed was aggression matched with aggression. David could read the roadmap of that need, too, but he’d always sucked at throwing verbal punches. “You’ll get your chance when we bring her back,” David settled on.

That had Tommy whirling around again, _glaring_. “What,” he demanded, “you’re not pissed or something?”

“Why would I be pissed?” He wanted to go to Tommy and touch his arm again. He wanted to wait out his frightened tantrum and catch his hand, pulling him against his body. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and let the both of them _grieve_ the way he knew they needed to. Getting the news, heading to the infirmary, _seeing Kate_ like that—marble-cold when she’d always been so warm, expression frozen in a moment of shock and, and _terror_ , terror unlike anything the impossibly brave girl had ever experienced…

It was just—

 _Merlin_ , but it was just a shock. They were shocked. They were _in shock_. And there was nothing they could do to combat that shock until they’d worked their way through it.

And there was no doing _that_ so long as Tommy was coiled up around his grief, all but vibrating with directionless, hurt fury.

“Tommy,” David began, reaching out after all.

Wrong move.

Tommy slapped his hand away, scoffing. “Don’t touch me,” he said. “I know what you really want to be doing when you touch me.”

David went perfectly still. Frozen himself, but for a whole new reason. “That,” he said slowly, “is unfair.”

“ _Is_ it?” he taunted. “Come on, admit it. Admit what Billy said is true. You’re fucking crazy about me. You _want_ me. You’re probably doing mental summersaults that Kate’s out of the way, too, because you knew I was thinking about making my move on her, huh? You were sitting there in the infirmary, looking at her— Looking at— _Looking_ , and being _fucking glad_.”

Brutal. Brutal and cruel and just another response to the cruelty and brutality that had marked his youth. This wasn’t really Tommy talking; it was the demons of his past, dredged up by Kate’s sudden, shocking petrification. David had to remember that. He had to keep his back up and his gaze steady. “No, Tommy,” David said. “I didn’t feel that way at all.”

Tommy shoved back—would have shoved _him_ , except his inner angels kept him from physically lashing out even at his worst these days—scowl darkening. “Why not?” he demanded, as if he actually _wanted_ David to play the monster for him. “I thought you were bloody _in love_ with me or something stupid.”

Merlin, but he was tired. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed and close those dark blue-and bronze curtains and block out the entire world. “Because,” David forced himself to say, perfectly even, as if each word didn’t bruise deeper than a blow, “I know you’re not in love with _me_. So,” he added, moving around a suddenly statue-still ( _petrified; what could cause petrification? A potion? No, she was too frightened for it to be something that snuck on her unawares_ ) Tommy, slipping into his now-usual seat and folding his trembling hands in a zen pose, “should we table this for when we’re alone again?”

Tommy turned, startled, a hank of blond hair falling across one eye. “What,” he began, stunned out of his pain-fueled blind attack by David’s brutal honesty.

 _Good to know_. “The others,” David said, tipping his head toward the door just as Eli stormed in, carrying with him a thundercloud to marvel Tommy’s.

“We’re going to _kill them_ ,” he snarled. A few seconds later, the door opened again and Cassie-and-Nate slipped through. “We’re going to find whoever did this to her and rip them apart, limb from bloody limb, yeah?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tommy agreed, throwing himself down onto the stone bench—not far from David, a part of him noticed distractedly. “Point the way and I’m there. Whoever did this to her is going to pay.”

Teddy—just slipping in, with Billy not far behind him—cleared his throat. “Them,” he said. At their ring of blank stares, he added, “Colin Creevey was petrified as well.”

“Who?” Eli demanded.

Cassie shot him a dirty look as she and Nate sank into their now-usual places. “Colin Creevey—the Gryffindor first year? For Merlin’s sake,” she added at Eli’s blank look, “Kate was right: you _do_ only pay attention if it’s riding a broom and ducking a bludger.”

At Kate’s name, everyone tensed, just for a moment.

Teddy, as usual, played peacekeeper. “He’s the little tow-haired one with the camera, always following Harry Potter around,” he explained. “Colin? Creevey?”

“Oh,” Eli said. He shrugged a shoulder. “Okay. Tommy, did you know him?”

All eyes turned on Tommy, who shrugged as well. “Not really,” he said. “Muggle-born, I think. Over excitable. Kind of a twerp. _Why_ are we talking about him when we could be discussing how to help Kate?”

“Because,” David said, “talking about Colin could be the key to helping Kate.” He held up a hand before Tommy could retort. “Whatever attacked her attacked him too, after all.”

“How do you know something _attacked_ them?” Billy asked.

Eli was the one who answered, working it through the way he always did (when he wasn’t letting his temper get the best of him). “Because she was afraid,” he said—then dropped his gaze to the floor, as if the thought of fierce, laughing Kate Bishop being afraid of _anything_ was sacrilege.

“She had good reason to be.”

This time everyone turned to look at Nate—even Cassie’s brows were climbing in visible surprise. The younger Ravenclaw didn’t talk much, but, David knew, he _saw_ more than anyone ever thought to give him credit for. Those dark eyes were constantly moving, those darker thoughts constantly turning over and over each other as he worked through problems. Nate was the smartest of them all; he was also, David knew, the one most touched by dark magic.

Maybe the one most drawn to it, too.

“Nate,” Tommy began, a sharp note in his voice, but Eli held up a hand, somehow managing to silence him. Nate was Ravenclaw; as much as David wanted to help break down House boundaries, there were times when like drew to like.

“Nate,” Eli said, studying his Housemate’s face. “What do you mean?” Then, lower: “You know you can trust us, mate.”

He swallowed and looked down. “There’s dark magic at work in the castle,” Nate said. “I can…feel it. It…hates.”

David controlled a shiver. “What does it hate?” he asked. Then, correcting: “Why Kate and Colin?” And, most importantly, “Is it You Know Who?”

They all drew back at that, shocked breaths an audible hiss. But Nate was looking up, eyes burning, and nodded once. “I think so,” he said. “That message that was left, with Mrs. Norris: _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware._ Harry Potter—last year he said You Know Who was back. And I’ve been _feeling_ …strange…ever since.”

“Nate,” Cassie soothed, taking his hand. He glanced over at her, desperate pallor fading slightly as she tipped closer toward him. He smiled at her. Nate’s family may have stretched into the deepest, darkest history of wizardkind—his parents may have been infamous Death Eaters—but David refused to believe that _he_ wasn’t, at core, good. Not when he could smile like that.

Surprisingly, Billy was the one who broke the silence. “So is the heir You Know Who, or someone else?” he asked. “And who are his enemies? Dumbledore?”

“Everyone,” Tommy muttered. “From what you guys have told me, everyone is his bloody enemy.”

“No, think about it,” Eli countered. “Who has been petrified so far? Kate and that Colin Creevey kid. How are they his enemies? What do they have in common?”

David cocked his head—then hissed in a breath when the answer came to him. He looked over at Tommy, suddenly wanting to wrap him up in his robes and carry him out of the damn castle if he had to. To somehow _save_ him, like David could ever possibly be some kind of hero in this tale.

“What?” Tommy demanded, still visibly uncomfortable after their fight. His shoulders hunched forward, but he didn’t break eye contact despite the fierce flush staining his cheeks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because,” Eli said, catching on, as always, “you’re Muggle-born. Like Kate. Like that Creevey kid, right?”

“ _Enemies of the heir, beware_ ,” David echoed. “I remember hearing some old story about that, from my parents. I’ll need to owl them to recall the details, but… For now, we can safely assume that the _enemies_ that need to be wary are Muggle-born students. Which means Kate, and Colin, and _you_ , Tommy.”

Tommy tried to wave that off. “Tch. Stop looking at me like I’m about to turn to stone any second. Even if all this were true, I’m hardly the only Muggle-born in the whole castle.” He pointed. “There’s Teddy, there. He’s Muggle-born too.”

“No he’s not,” Billy said immediately, almost reflexively—then clapped a hand over his own mouth, eyes going wide.

Teddy tipped his head. “What Billy means is,” he said, “my dad was a Muggle and my mother was a witch. But they raised me like a Muggle, so for all intents and purposes…”

Eli nodded. “For all intents and purposes, you’re a Muggle,” he agreed. “So you’re still in the line of fire; sorry, mate.”

Teddy just shrugged a shoulder, as if to say: _well, what can you do?_ Billy, David noted with interest, was steadily turning cherry red, eyes downcast and body hunched forward subtly. His hands kept closing into fists, nails biting into his palms, knuckles bleeding white, as if he were wrestling with something. Embarrassment?

Shame?

David flicked his gaze between Billy (contorted silently around that sudden flush of emotion) and Teddy (almost _too_ relaxed for someone who’d just found out he was the potential target of the darkest wizard of their time), curiosity sparked. There was something going on there. Some secret to be sussed out if he had the inclination. Something more to what Billy had confessed—though what that could be, David had no idea.

 _If Teddy says he’s not a wizard_ , he thought as Eli made a no-doubt stirring speech about standing together and rallying around students in need and keeping everyone safe, _and Billy says he’s not a Muggle, then what, I wonder, is he?_

Teddy’s story seemed too pat, too easily offered, too carefully casual in its delivery to be the full truth. And his features were too perfectly blank for there not to be _something_ more going on.

 _A puzzle_ , David thought—then deliberately pushed the curiosity away, refocusing on the rest of the group. Nate’s attention was zeroed in on Teddy-and-Billy too, and David gave a subtle shake of his head. _No_. No, if Teddy was keeping a secret, it was his to keep; they needed to respect his wishes (as painful as it was to walk away from a mystery to be solved.)

Nate frowned, narrowing his eyes subtly, and David quirked a brow. A beat passed, then two, before Nate sighed and shrugged a single shoulder in defeat.

David folded his hands and turned his attention back for the rousing end to Eli’s speech, aware that Tommy (quicksilver Tommy, self-destructive temper soothed again by the feeling of taking action; of the draining away of that terrible powerlessness) was watching him out of the corner of his eyes.

Tommy leaned closer and whispered, “What was that all about?”

“Hmm?” David kept his eyes focused on Eli.

“Your weird little thing with Nate. What was that all about, then? Is he giving you sass? You need me to rough him up a little?”

The strained note in Tommy’s voice told more of a story than _he_ ever would. The storm had passed and Tommy was through lashing out in his pain, but now came the guilt he didn’t know how to handle gracefully. The need to apologize, calcified by years of being raised in a house where every apology was met with more scorn.

Tommy wanted his forgiveness for the cruel things he’d said; Tommy didn’t know how to _ask_ for forgiveness no matter how desperately he needed it. So David did the only thing he possibly could.

He tilted his head toward Tommy and smiled, forgiving everything, forgetting nothing, making the complicated web of their years-long friendship work anyway. “His sass I can handle,” David said. “It’s Eli we’ve got to worry about.”

There was an obvious (to David) slump of Tommy’s shoulders, relief making his body loose again. He listed, knocking against David’s side, and stayed there—warmth blooming inside and out. Merlin, but he loved this boy. So much so that he could almost forget just how badly loving him could hurt.

 _(I was going to ask her out, you know_.)

_(I know what you really want to be doing when you touch me.)_

David firmly pushed those thoughts away, too, locking them deep, where they couldn’t surface at the wrong time and make things awkward between them. He could do it; he was the king of repression, after all.

“So are we in?” Eli said, looking around the group with an expectant expression.

“I’m in,” Teddy said, followed immediately by Billy.

Cassie bit her bottom lip. “It sounds dangerous,” she admitted, “but if we can do anything to help guard the Muggle-born kids…then yes. Yes, I’m in.”

Nate tipped his head in agreement.

“We’ll start at the library,” David began, only to be interrupted by Tommy’s exaggerated groan. “What?” he said, pretending confusion. They’d been through this song and dance often enough that it was comfortable as old robes. As familiar as…

…as _home_.

“The _library_? Really? The first really exciting thing to happen since…” Tommy frowned. “Okay, since Harry Potter showed up at school, _whatever_ , point is, things are getting dangerous and you want to make a break for the _library_? You are such a bloody Ravenclaw, you know that?”

“I thought we were trying to avoid all those House clichés?” Cassie pointed out. “ _Such a Ravenclaw. Such a Gryffindor._ We’re trying to make things better by breaking away from all that.”

Tommy just rolled his eyes. “God, you’re _such a Hufflepuff,”_ he said, and both Teddy and Cassie chorused an immediate: “Thank you!”

David stood before Eli could lose his temper. “All right,” he said. “Those of us who want to are going to the library. We’ll owl our parents later to see if any of them remember any old stories, but the history section is as good a place as any to start.”

“Better,” Nate said, standing, “really.”

“Neeeeerds,” Tommy muttered, sotto.

Eli cleared his throat. “Anyone who doesn’t want to be on Team Research can start patrolling the halls, keeping an eye out. As Head Boy—” Tommy groaned again, “—I plan to make that my main focus.”

“I’ll join you,” Cassie said, shrugging at Nate’s quick look. “You’re the library person. I’d really rather be out there _doing_ something. It’s…weird, not having Kate around.”

They all went silent for a moment.

“Kate’s not around for _now_ ,” Teddy finally said. “Once Sprout finishes growing those mandrakes…”

“Yeah,” Cassie agreed, reaching out to lightly touch his shoulder as she passed. “All right, I guess I’ll see the rest of you around.”

Tommy rocked up onto his heels. “Wait for me,” he said, taking a few quick steps before turning, looking at David. “I’d be useless in the library anyway. I’ll drop by later, see if you need anything. Snacks or distraction or whatever.”

David found it easy enough to smile, even now. “Okay,” he said. It was a relief, he told himself, for things to so easily go back to normal. To status quo. “That sounds good.”

The smile Tommy offered was a little too forced, a little too weak around the edges, but it was an effort. He was trying; they were all trying. “Okay,” he said. Then, glancing around at all of them, expression going pinched, he added: “We’re going to do this. For Kate.”

And together they said, in chorus, “For Kate.”


	10. Billy

Billy was slowly crawling out of his skin.

It was late—really late. Nearly past-curfew late. The library was all but empty, and everyone who remained looked haunted. Hunted. Scared to so much as whisper lest they draw attention to themselves. Fear was a palpable presence, hovering about them all in choking clouds, making his stomach twist into tight knots.

Or…was that guilt?

“Merlin,” he breathed, staring down at the open book. The words had been blurring together for what felt like hours now. He was trying to concentrate on research—he really was!—but his mind kept turning from his purpose to, well. To Teddy.

Billy bit the inside of his mouth and glanced at Teddy out of the corner of his eyes. He was sitting next to him, elbows planted on the table, fingers digging through his blond hair. There was a frown between his brows and his lashes flicked back and forth as if he were reading, but Billy couldn’t escape the feeling that Teddy was angrily stewing over what had happened up in the tower.

That he was angry with _Billy_.

And fuck, but Billy couldn’t blame him. He’d never been great at keeping secrets, but he’d thought… He’d thought something this big, this important, would change that. He’d thought he could do better. He’d thought he could at least last a _day_.

Teddy had shared with him something so big that it could literally ruin his _life_ if the wrong people heard. It could get Teddy thrown from Hogwarts, could destroy the future he was building for himself, could literally strip the rights every wizard enjoyed, just because, what? His ancestors refused the raw deal wizards had offered them?

Merfolk were considered little more than animals, and, and, fine, yes, Billy had never really thought about whether that was right or wrong before—but he was thinking _now_. And maybe it did make him shallow that it took one beautiful boy to get it through his head that merfolk and Veela and goblins and all the magical creatures—elves! Centaurs! Whatever!—deserved just as much as he, Billy Kaplan, wizard-born idiot was given, but it was through his head and it was in his heart and he was just about ready to burst with shame that one slip of the tongue could have _ended_ everything that Teddy had worked so fucking hard for all his life, and maybe Teddy _should_ hate him, shouldn’t trust him, should—

Billy startled, nearly jolting right out of his chair when Teddy’s hand fell over his. He looked at it—big and broad, gently pinning Billy’s fingers to the open pages of the book in front of him—before slowly lifting his gaze to Teddy’s face.

He was still focused on his own book, lashes still flicking back and forth as he read…but the light furrow between his brows was gone, and his lips twitched up at the corners the longer Billy stared.

As if…maybe he wasn’t all that mad after all.

Billy licked his lips and slowly—carefully—turned his hand beneath Teddy’s. Teddy immediately adjusted his grip, twining their fingers together and squeezing. The pure wave of relief was so strong Billy actually slumped beneath it, letting out an uneven puff of breath. _Oh_ , he thought, stomach slowly untwisting; heart pounding. _Oh, okay_.

Teddy glanced over, brows lifting in question.

Billy opened his mouth…then paused and glanced toward where David and Nate were sitting. Both were staring intently down at their own books, twin piles of finished tomes by their elbows. Both were very obviously not paying attention, but he’d known the Ravenclaws just long enough to realize that didn’t mean they didn’t notice bloody everything anyway.

He tipped his head toward the back stacks. Teddy nodded.

Billy slipped his hand free as he stood. “I need a walk around the stacks,” he said quietly. “My brain’s gone to mush.”

“Then sprinkle it with cinnamon, dig in, slurp up, and start over,” Nate said…then paused. He looked up into Billy’s confused-slash-horrified expression. “Sorry,” he said. “Ravenclaw joke.”

“He’s right,” David added without bothering to look up. “Mmm, brains.”

Billy jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m just going to walk away now,” he said, moving back. Teddy murmured some kind of excuse and moved to join him, catching up just as Billy made the edge of the stacks. He slipped in, heading down the long row and out of sight of the main tables before giving a soft, breathless laugh. “I will never understand Ravenclaws,” Billy said. “I mean, I like them and all, but _wow_ they’re weird.”

“Says the Slytherin,” Teddy teased, catching his hand again. He squeezed Billy’s fingers, and Billy felt an instant burst of joy, like his heart had been transfigured into the sun. “Weirdest I’ve ever met. Though of course, that could just be _you_.”

Teddy gave a little tug and Billy let himself be pulled in close—closer. His heart tripped, stuttered, and started to race. “I’m pretty sure that’s just me,” Billy managed, though words… Words were nearly impossible when he was so close to the heat of Teddy’s body. “Um. Um.”

“What’s wrong?” Teddy murmured, humor fading into something gentler. He reached up with his other hand, dragging his knuckles along Billy’s jaw.

His toes actually curled at the touch. “I-I,” Billy began—then huffed a soft laugh and caught Teddy’s wrist. “I can’t think when you’re doing that,” he added. He squeezed lightly, then glanced over his shoulder, considering the glimpse of the main library visible down the aisle. “Come on,” he added, pulling away. He kept his fingers tangled with Teddy’s, however, tugging the other boy after him as he moved deeper into the stacks.

The Hogwarts library was huge and—in places—labyrinthine. It was full of private copses and hidden places if you knew where to look, and while Billy wasn’t as familiar with its secrets as someone like Nate or David or even Eli would be, he knew enough to lead a bemused Teddy through several twists and turns further and further into a dark corner and away from anyone who might stumble across them on accident.

The little reading nook was cut off from the main stacks, elevated on a half-floor and boasting a cozy pillow-topped window seat flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. During the day, sunlight streamed through the stained glass in warm shades; now, moonlight made shadows across the floor, silver-blue and beautiful.

Billy let go of Teddy’s hand and climbed the steps up to the nook, feeling suddenly reluctant when just a few moments ago he was simmering with the need to, to _apologize_. To clear the air. But clearing the air…that had its own dangers, didn’t it? Because Teddy may have been willing to forgive Billy’s little slip, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t made him angry. Or hurt him. Or…or what if Billy brought it up, and that’s what made Teddy realize that this wasn’t a good idea? He’d could have had anyone he wanted at Hogwarts, but so far as Billy knew, Teddy hadn’t dated anyone in all the years he’d been here. The reason behind that was obvious.

But then, what made Billy so special, really? Why was he the exception? And would pressing Teddy on all of these things ruin this all before it even really began?

Mind whirling with doubt, heart racing, stomach sick, Billy flopped onto the window seat and reflexively drew up his legs as Teddy moved slowly closer. He wrapped his arms around his shins protectively, all but flinching back in his worry.

“So, ah,” Teddy said, pausing for what felt like forever before finally moving to sit next to him. “The signals you’re sending off are crazy mixed right now.”

He looked up, startled.

“I mean, first you seemed nervous, then receptive, and then you dragged me to a _notorious_ make-out spot, only to go all quiet and freaked out, so…” Teddy spread his hands. “I’m not quite sure what to, uh, make of it all. Are you—” He suddenly straightened, brows knit. “You’re not afraid of _me_ , are you?”

Billy blinked. “What?” he said. Then, “ _No_. No, I’m not afraid of you.”

Teddy leaned his elbows on his knees. “Oh. Good. Then what’s got you so scared?” he asked. “Is it what happened to Kate? Do you think…you could be in danger?”

The thought honestly hadn’t occurred to him. “I doubt it,” Billy said slowly. “I mean, no more than any wizard is, I guess.”

“But if Tommy’s a target,” Teddy said, “and you’re Tommy’s twin brother…how doesn’t that put you at risk too?”

Billy shrugged a shoulder, feeling awkward. He _always_ felt awkward whenever he tried to talk about his and Tommy’s unknown past. But Teddy had been so open by the lake; it only seemed right to try his best to reciprocate. “It’s… I mean. Tommy and I were adopted as babies to different families, you know. He went to a Muggle family and I went to my mom and dad. They’re, uh, you know, from a pretty long line of wizards.” A long, moderately powerful, well-respected line—at least according to his Housemates, some of whom cared very much about that sort of thing. It hadn’t meant much of anything to Billy when he’d first arrived at Hogwarts, but one of the seventh years had spelled it out in an infuriatingly condescending way:

“We don’t know which witch was our mother,” Billy said, echoing that long-ago pedantry now. “But it’s pretty clear she _was_ a witch. And apparently being raised by the Kaplans all but inoculated me against any stupid bloodism. I mean, it wasn’t even until I got to Hogwarts that I knew I had a twin brother out there. And maybe Tommy could have gotten in with the purists with the idea that he may have been raised Muggle, but he was born wizard, but Tommy is…”

He left the words trailing off, uncertain how to finish. Because Tommy was Tommy, and he was defiantly proud of all the things other people liked to see as faults; he embraced his Muggle heritage with endless bravado.

It was part of what made Billy like him so much.

“All this bloodism stuff is just stupid,” Teddy said vehemently. “It doesn’t make any sense. You’re all wizards.”

“ _We’re_ all wizards,” Billy echoed, looking up through his lashes at him.

Teddy paused, then sighed and rubbed at his brow. The row of earrings caught the filtering moonlight in little starbursts of light. “No,” he said. “Not all of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy said quickly, impulsively, before he could be a coward and take it back. “For earlier, I mean—when I slipped. I didn’t mean to. And I swear, I _swear_ it won’t happen again.”

Teddy looked up at that, visibly started. “Is that why you were so upset?” he asked.

Billy winced. “Well,” he said. “I mean… I did basically almost spill your secret to the whole group. I thought…um. I thought you’d hate me. That you’d regret telling me.”

“No,” Teddy said. Then, more firmly when Billy just looked away, “ _No_. Billy.” He half-turned, one hand falling on Billy’s knee, the other braced on the window seat behind him. “I don’t—I don’t _hate_ you. I’m not sure I could hate you, even if you told half the school what I was.”

“ _Who_.” The word was almost ripped from him, so harsh, so violent, it ached inside. Teddy pulled back, startled, but Billy caught his hand before he could withdraw. Their eyes locked together, dark and light, intent. “Even if I told half the school _who_ you were. You’re not some mindless creature, Teddy. You’re not a _thing_.”

Teddy shook his head. “Wizarding law doesn’t exactly agree with that, Billy,” he said.

“Well then wizarding law can suck my ass,” Billy snarled. “It’s wrong and it should be changed. It will be changed.” He paused, straightening, feeling oddly like he was on the edge of some metaphorical cliff, ready to leap. His whole body shook with a strange sort of recognition, like he’d finally found his destined path…if he believed in any of that nonsense. “ _I’m_ going to change it.”

“I’m…I appreciate that.” Teddy didn’t seem to get it. His brows were pulled together in a faint frown, as if Billy’s constantly shifting mood was a melody he couldn’t quite catch. “I appreciate you want to help me. But the world doesn’t work like that.”

_For you, maybe not_ , Billy thought, and hated how true that was. It was a miracle Teddy was even here, at Hogwarts. A miracle and…probably…thanks to a deliberate blind eye on Dumbledore’s part. Well, if a wizard like Dumbledore could change someone’s life just by looking the other way, what could a wizard like Billy accomplish with both eyes open and a fire lit in his heart? “I don’t know, it’s probably stupid, and it’s probably too early to be thinking like this at all, but, well. I think—I know—I’m _going to_ join the Ministry after school.”

“Okay,” Teddy said slowly, not getting it.

“I’ve got the grades for it,” Billy continued doggedly. “And I’ve got the family for it. I’ve got pretty much everything you bloody need in this stupid world to get in. And I’m going to work _really_ hard, and I’m going to climb my way up, and someday _I’m_ going to be Minister or something like it, and I’m going to change those stupid laws and make things right.”

Teddy’s expression was painfully raw, beautiful. Touched. “Billy,” he said.

“I know,” Billy said quickly. “I don’t know bollocks about any of that—but hey, I’ve got some time. And I’ve got the resources. All I was missing was the drive, you know? I figured I’d end up, I don’t, a teacher or maybe working for Gringotts or something. Nothing beyond Hogwarts meant all that much until now. But I want to do something for people like you, and, and, I _can_ do something for people like you, so I’d bloody well better do something, or I’m just as bad as the rest of them, aren’t I? And you’re looking at me like I’m mental, so I’m just going to stop there,” he added quickly, feeling his ears pink. It was impossible to read Teddy’s expression, but there was something… _something_ there. Something that made Billy’s stomach twist like smoke in the breeze.

He bit his lip and hoped whatever he was reading on Teddy’s face was good.

Slowly—as if they were underwater—Teddy reached out. He caught Billy’s hand in his, threading their fingers together again. His gaze had dipped down, catching on the way their hands were clasped…the way Billy’s knees brushed Teddy’s hip…all the places where they came together.

“Even if it’s an impossible dream,” Teddy said slowly, quietly, so soft Billy had to strain to hear him, “it’s the nicest dream I’ve ever heard. Thank you.”

“I’m not—” Billy began, glaring down at his knee, not entirely certain what he was trying to protest. _I’m not just saying things_ , maybe. Or _I’m not going to give up easily_. But a sudden glint of light caught his eye, derailing his thoughts. He glanced up and out the window, startled, thinking he was seeing a new light in the sky—brighter than the moon, gleaming more pure a silver than any star—but all he saw reflected back in the dark glass was _Teddy_.

Teddy…glowing with incandescent inner light.

Billy sucked in a breath and jerked his head back, staring, awed. He could actually see Teddy’s features shifting before him, human guise he wore melting away to reveal… _Merlin_ …the perfect gleam of golden hair, the core-of-a-flame blue of his eyes, the pure _glow_ of his skin. He was, he, he was so—

He was so—

Teddy dropped a gentle hand over Billy’s eyes, blocking out the mind-numbingly perfect vision of him. “If you focus,” he said, voice dropped intimately low, “you can see _me_ and won’t get mesmerized.”

“Seeing you _is_ what’s so mesmerizing,” Billy mumbled, lips numb. His whole body felt both shocked alive and strangely deadened at once; his heart was racing, but his limbs felt lethargic, and it was all he could do not to slump forward against Teddy’s _literally blindingly perfect_ body. “Merlin, what are you doing? What if someone sees you?”

“I’ll hear them coming,” Teddy promised. “I’ll be careful. I just…I just want to see you seeing the real me. Does that make sense?”

Billy laughed, feeling unhinged. Even Teddy’s palm was glowing with inner sunlight; if he opened his eyes, lashes flickering against Teddy’s palm, his vision was bathed in gold and silver. “ _No_. But my brain is pretty much stuck on a feedback loop of _Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy_ , so, you know, I’m not exactly your best judge.”

“You’re so strange,” Teddy said, dropping his hand. Billy immediately closed his eyes, not wanting to be overwhelmed by the shock of his beauty again—especially not when Teddy tipped up his chin with the barest brush of his fingers and brought their mouths together. Slow. Sweet. _Achingly_ warm.

Billy hummed in the back of his throat. “Good-strange?” he said; his voice was hoarse, as if he’d been shouting for hours.

Teddy’s fingers slid up his jaw to sink into his hair, and Billy tightened his muscles as he slowly blinked open his eyes, ready for the sheer overwhelming power of Teddy’s Veela-slash-siren beauty. It was…Merlin, it was no less impossible to face even prepared for it. He could feel himself flushing in response, shuddering on the edge of losing control—

—but then Teddy quirked a smile, head tipping to the side, the light reflecting off the window (reflecting from his own bloody gorgeous skin, and wasn’t that a mindfuck?) catching in that row of very Muggle earrings, and somehow that was enough to snap Billy’s mind back onto track. He could _feel_ it, feel the mesmeric charm of Teddy’s blood loosening its grip as he squinted past the perfect, gleaming beauty and saw Teddy Altman: Hufflepuff, Quidditch fan, giant dork, and kindest person he’d ever met.

Billy swallowed, then slowly began to grin. “Okay,” he said. “That’s going to take some practice getting used to, but…okay.”

“Yeah?” Teddy’s smile grew, and he leaned in to press their foreheads together, warm hand cupping the back of Billy’s neck. It felt like an anchor, like a promise, and Billy shivered and pressed in closer. His vision kept blurring at the edges, but he focused on Teddy and ignored everything else. “I was, uh, hoping, but—you know. You know?”

“Oh yeah,” Billy said, breath gusting against Teddy’s; Teddy’s warm against his mouth. Each word was a prelude to a kiss, and his stomach tightened at the thought of dragging his tongue along those shining metal hoops; sucking them into his mouth; biting down, _oh Merlin_. “I blind people with my hotness pretty much every day.”

Teddy laughed, letting go of his hand to catch Billy’s hip, tugging him forward. Billy tipped in closer, rising up onto his knees, bracing one hand on Teddy’s muscular chest to keep from sprawling like a swooning maiden across his lap. “You blind _me_ with your hotness pretty much every day,” Teddy promised, faux-serious, and Billy just had to kiss his lying mouth for that. He just _had_ to.

The brush of their lips instantly melted into a languid glide—liquid-hot, mouths parting as if by unspoken agreement, tongues— _tongues_ —brushing in question. Billy gave an embarrassingly broken noise, straining closer even as he threw his arms around Teddy’s neck, holding on for dear life. He opened all too eagerly against him, feeling that thrumming awareness build inside his lower gut, heat beginning to bloom.

Teddy stroked his tongue into Billy’s mouth, curious and light and, and, and _teasing_. He didn’t let the kiss deepen at first, keeping each tangle of their tongues so maddeningly brief that all Billy got was the impression of scalding heat before Teddy was pulling away again, and again. At the next light flicker of tongue, Billy _bite_ , sharp enough to be a warning, and Teddy laughed against his mouth.

The laugh echoed through him, and Merlin, but Billy was already hard.

He pushed up a little in question, anxious, searching—hips twitching once before he controlled himself. But Teddy’s hands were sliding down his shoulders and chest, leaving lava flows in their wake, and each languid stroke of his tongue was stoking something hot hot hot inside of him. His skin felt like it was tightening about his flesh, and the _noises_ he kept making, barely swallowed, would have mortified him if his brain wasn’t determined to melt out his ears.

“Teddy,” Billy panted into the kiss. He barely knew how they’d gotten here—he just knew he wanted to strain forward, to have more, to have everything. He dug his nails into the back of Teddy’s neck and shifted his weight on his knees, restless. Then, needing to be as close as possible, _not thinking_ , Billy pushed in as close as possible, throwing one leg over Teddy’s thighs and straddling his trim waist. The movement brought their bodies together in a tight _grind_ , sudden and shockingly good, pleasure blazing through him like a comet’s trail—he cried out into Teddy’s mouth, shuddering at the drag of their hard (hard, _hard_ ) cocks together…

…and that was the last impression he had before Teddy jolted in response, hips bucking up so hard that Billy lost his poorly planned, precarious perch, tumbling in a flurry of limbs and heavy robes to the floor with a startled _yelp_.

The silence of the library seemed magnified a thousandfold as Billy—sprawled on the ground, erection tenting his robes, staring up at his gorgeous, glowing boyfriend’s shocked-stupid face—held his breath, waiting.

And then there was the drag of a chair against stone.

“ _Shit_ ,” Billy said, feelingly. He watched as Teddy rapidly shifted, those otherworldly features dimming, growing more familiar and more mundane, but no less perfect to Billy. Teddy shook his head as if to clear it and seemed to magically pull himself together, looking for all the world as if he _hadn’t_ been madly going at it in a hidden corner of the library just seconds before.

As much as Billy loved him, a part of him hated Teddy for that, too.

There was a clop of approaching footsteps and Billy groaned, rolling into a ball before forcing himself to sit up. He drew up his legs, wrapping his arms around his shins and dropping his forehead to his knees to hide the evidence of his lingering arousal just as _Tommy_ came around the corner.

“Hey, losers,” Tommy said…then paused. “Oh. _Gross_. Were you guys actually using the nook for some, you know, _nook_?”

“Go away and die,” Billy groaned, curling up into a tighter ball.

Tommy just snorted. “You _were_. I can’t believe it; the rest of us are working out arses off, and here you are, snogging in some dark corners like—” He cut off when Billy blindly flailed for a book and flung it at him. “Come on, then,” Tommy added. “Pull yourselves together, you twats. I’ve come to escort you back to your dungeons and basements like the good little Gryffindor I am.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Teddy said, dry. He stood, and Billy glanced up just in time to see him smooth down his robes, then offer Billy his hand.

Billy took it, grumbling, feeling awkward and jangly and weirdly happy—and thankfully more composed. It turned out Tommy was the perfect anti-aphrodisiac. “Yeah,” he muttered, sarcastic. “ _Thanks,_ Tommy.” But there was something almost-sweet about Tommy, Cassie, and Eli coming to see everyone back safely—and there was something far sweeter about the way Teddy caught his hand again as they followed a continually-mocking Tommy out of the stacks and back toward the rest of their waiting friends. Billy squeezed his fingers and Teddy squeezed back, like a secret language that was only just now building between the two of them.

Then, just before they reached the table with its pile of (more or less useless) books, Teddy leaned in and whispered in Billy’s ear: _“Wake up early tomorrow morning and you may catch me swimming above you_.”

And all Billy could do was _smile_.


	11. Teddy

He should have been ashamed.

No, Teddy figured, gaze fixed on the heavy tome as if he could somehow will the answer into existence—will himself to find that one needle in a whole field of haystacks—he _was_ ashamed. Deeply ashamed, down to his core. He was also just too giddily happy for that shame to linger more than a few minutes at a time no matter how hard he tried to hang on.

_Kate’s been turned to stone_ , he reminded himself fiercely—a mantra he’d repeated over and over again through these last few weeks. _Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Nearly Headless Nick… This isn’t a game_.

And yet when he shifted, knee brushing against Billy’s beneath the heavy oak table, Teddy couldn’t help the breathless dissolve of pure _joy_ deep in his belly.

This? This was getting out of hand.

Teddy bit his lower lip and forced himself to concentrate, re-reading the last few sentences. But Billy had taken the (mostly) accidental nudge as invitation to _lean_ into his space—subtly at first, just a vague awareness of heat that grew and grew into wonderfully insistent pressure against his side. Teddy drew in a breath and smelled the faint musk of dungeons and peppermint that clung to Billy’s robes. Gooseflesh raced down his arms.

Not allowing himself to look, Teddy dropped one hand to the table between their spread books. Barely a second passed before Billy’s hand followed suit, so close each serrated breath slid their knuckles together in a maddeningly slow drag. His fingers twitched, and Billy hooked an index finger in Teddy’s before loosing again—there and gone, a fraction of what he really wanted.

_Don’t_ , Teddy thought, re-reading that same damn line again. He should have already blown past these pages, but his thoughts felt sluggish when they weren’t focused on Billy. He cared—he cared so much—but weeks of research hadn’t revealed any answers, and kids were still being petrified in the halls, and whispers were spreading about the heir of Slytherin, and and and—

And it couldn’t hurt to take small moments of comfort, of joy, when they came. Could it?

Wetting his lips, Teddy flicked his gaze to the right, studying Billy’s sharp profile. The other boy was studiously bent over his own book, but he hadn’t turned the page in the last few minutes either. His cheeks were Gryffindor red and his breathing seemed a little fast. Teddy was certain that if he pressed his palm to Billy’s chest, he would feel his racing pulse; if he pressed his lips to Billy’s throat, he would taste his growing awareness.

_Me too,_ he thought, swallowing against the spike in his own heartbeat. _Oh Merlin, me too._

Slowly, subtly, Teddy turned his hand over in invitation. Barely a beat later, Billy’s fingers were threading through his, thumb rasping across his knuckles, and everything inside Teddy brightened. Merlin, but it took everything he had not to lose control of his shape and _literally_ beam with happiness.

Across the table, Tommy cleared his throat. _Pointedly_.

_Shit_.

Teddy glanced up through his lashes, flinching at his flat stare. The Gryffindor had a pile of books to his right, two of them depressingly familiar. They were so desperate for answers that they’d begun looping back, combing through books they’d already dismissed in the hopes that something had been missed. “Bored?” Tommy asked.

“No,” Teddy said. He began to slide his hand free, but Billy tightened his grip. Not letting him go.

“Cut us some slack,” Billy said, ignoring Teddy’s startled look. His brows were drawn together into a dark frown; he looked pale in the flickering candlelight. “We’ve been here for _hours_. A few minutes here or there isn’t going to change anything.”

“And Kate has been a statue for _weeks_ ,” Tommy snapped. Teddy’s stomach tightened at the words, that shame—endless, terrible shame—briefly overwhelming. Merlin, but he was the world’s shittiest friend to be _happy_ while Kate was gone. “Too bad _she_ doesn’t get the chance to take a break and canoodle with her bloody boyfriend.”

Billy’s grip tightened, fingers faintly clammy; cold. He held his ground as firmly as any Gryffindor, however, staring down Tommy with a bullish set to his jaw. “Lay off,” Billy said. “We’re doing the best we can, okay? Grinding ourselves into the dirt isn’t going to bring Kate back.”

“ _Making moon-eyes at Teddy_ sure as fuck isn’t going to—” he began, beginning to rise in his chair, only to cut off when Eli snapped his book shut.

It was _loud_ , loud enough that Harry Potter’s brainy little friend looked up from her own massive pile of books one table over. Heads were turning toward them, the few students left in the library this late at night all too willing to be distracted from their work. “Enough,” Eli said, voice quiet but firm. He set his book aside with a solid _thump_. “Going for each other’s’ throats isn’t going to do a damn thing, yeah?”

“But,” Tommy began, turning his glare on Eli.

Eli simply shook his head. “Thanks for helping,” he said. “Serious. _All_ of us have been busting our asses, and when Kate’s with us again…” He hesitated, licking his bottom lip, gaze dropping briefly to the table. David, sitting at the far end with Nate, leaned in with puckered brows, but Eli was already rallying. “She’s going to thank you all too. But she won’t get that chance if we drive ourselves into the dirt, so.” He sat back, spreading his hands. “We’re all clear for the rest of the night.”

“Are you _serious_?” Tommy demanded, but Nate was already standing and gathering his books, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. “It’s more than an hour until curfew.”

Eli, true to form, refused to back down. “Then we have more than an hour to ourselves. I think we need it pretty damn bad—don’t you?”

_More than an hour to ourselves_. It sounded impossibly good—Teddy couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more than a few minutes at a time that weren’t eaten up by school, by research, by patrolling the halls…by doing everything within his power to _help_ and realizing with slowly sinking dread that nothing mattered. Nothing any of them were doing _mattered_ , no matter how hard they tried.

Stomach sinking, tightening up, he slipped his hand free and began gathering his books.

“Tommy,” David said, quiet, but Tommy was pushing away from the table—bristling with something trapped between rage and pain. He left his own pile of books sitting there and stalked away, slamming past Hermione Granger, who was also rising from her seat. “Tommy!” David sighed and turned to Eli. “I need to,” he began.

“Yeah,” Eli said, getting it immediately. “Go on and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. I’ll clean up his mess.”

David’s smile was crooked, a little sad too, and he rose with his usual quiet dignity. Teddy piled books in his arms, watching him go—watching them all scatter. It wasn’t until he startled at the feel of Billy’s hand on his arm that he realized how far into himself he’d drifted.

“Hey,” Billy said, rising. His own voice was dropped low, intimate. He tipped his head toward Teddy. “He was just looking for an excuse to go off; it’s not our fault.” Billy’s fingers were warm, the pressure welcome as they slid down Teddy’s arm, his wrist, to brush across his knuckles. “Or if it is, you know, screw him. We’ve been working our tails off. We deserve this.”

_Do we_ , he didn’t ask—but he let himself smile, just enough to earn a smile in return. The funny thing about guilt was it could be so easy to push aside when faced with Billy’s warm eyes, his upturned face, his thumb brushing back and forth back and forth across the back of Teddy’s hand. It was so easy to get distracted by _just how much_ he liked this wizard boy…and forget the weird sense that it was someone like him (a creature; a monster) roaming the halls _hurting_ these helpless kids.

“Hey, hey,” Billy said, turning fully to him, and Teddy used every bit of skill he’d learned as a shapeshifter to twist that roiling guilt into a crooked smile.

He gently nudged Billy’s arm. “Hey back,” he said, _warm_. Warm enough, suggestive enough, that Billy lost the thread of his worry and instead began to blush. The sight of it was its own uncanny balm of Gilead. “You busy for the next hour or so?”

Billy flushed harder at the hidden implication, pulling back just enough to help gather up his own books. Across the library table, Eli was gagging to himself and rolling his eyes, but he let them be. “Um, well, I _was_ going to head down to the dungeons and get a head start on homework,” he lied, flirtation beginning to thread through his own voice. “But I _suppose_ I could make time for your stupid face if you insisted.”

“Good,” Teddy said; they headed off to re-stock the books, shoulder to shoulder. “Because my stupid face would very much like to show your stupid face something.”

“O-oh?” Billy’s voice actually cracked.

Teddy laughed. “All right,” he admitted, “that sounded dirtier than I actually mean it to.”

“Oh,” Billy said, pretending to deflate in disappointment—and it was the most natural thing in the world to lean in and kiss him (soft, warm, lingering in the darkness of the library stacks) and let all the mixed feelings and guilt and worry and shame crumble up and drift away in the face of, just. _This boy_.

Billy sighed happily against Teddy’s lips, leaning closer, and Teddy blindly pushed his books toward the shelves, trusting the spells to see them where they belonged. His empty hands were then free to cup Billy’s face, thumbs brushing across his cheeks as he drew him closer and kiss and kiss and _kiss_ him, loving all the little noises trapped within his new boyfriend’s chest.

Boyfriend. Merlin, but that was such a funny, small word to encapsulate everything Billy could mean to him, given time.

“I want to show you something,” Teddy murmured against Billy’s mouth, licking deep inside, losing the words against the slick tangle of his tongue. Billy dropped his own armful of books, but they were close enough to the tall shelves that the spell took hold, lifting them around their locked bodies—pages fluttering in a whisper of paper wings—and carrying them back to where they belonged. Billy hooked his fingers in the front of Teddy’s robes, grabbing hold of his gold-and-black tie. Keeping him close.

He shuddered. “Yeah,” Billy said, nipping at Teddy’s mouth, already going boneless; _melting_. It was still amazing to Teddy that he could do this to the other boy with just a few kisses, touches, whispered words with layers of meaning.

“Still not as filthy as you’re thinking, B,” Teddy teased, kissing-and-biting down Billy’s jaw. He dragged his fingers into snarled dark hair, mussing it further. It took everything he had not to pull Billy against him so he could feel the excitement building low in his belly. Lower. “…mostly.” Then, struck by inspiration: “I just want to get you wet.”

Billy groaned and pulled back from the kiss, backhanding Teddy’s chest. “ _Stop it_ ,” he said, laughter threading through the words. His eyes were blown wide and dark already, his hair was an unholy mess, and his skin was stained red. He’d never looked so beautiful. “You’re seriously going to give me a complex if you keep jerking me around like that.”

“Jerking you around like what?” Teddy asked, faux-innocent, but he ducked and laughed when Billy took another gentle swing at him, letting the urgency of the moment shatter. It was good to get a few steps away from Billy, anyway. They’d made an art form out of stealing fifteen minutes here or there to desperately make out in the stacks, but now they had a full hour of free time open to them. They could go anywhere—actually _be alone_ for the first time since they’d gotten together.

The thought was nearly enough to make his knees weak, even as his grin began to widen. Formless joy was winning out again, and Teddy refused to let himself feel the creeping guilt that always followed in its footsteps. _Later_. He’d worry about all that _later_.

“Come on,” he said instead, offering Billy a hand. He took it immediately, without question, threading their fingers together and letting Teddy tug him out of the shelter of the stacks and through the library. Eli was still finishing cleaning up, chatting with Cassie, who must have swung by after her rounds. They gave the two of them a wide berth, instinctively avoiding any chance of being stopped. _One hour_. Compared with how little time they’d gotten to spend together over the last weeks, that sounded like an impossible luxury, but Teddy knew it would whittle away all too quickly if they weren’t careful.

So. He kept up a quick pace, kept tugging Billy behind him, and kept focused on what he wanted more than anything—what he _dreamed_ about, more nights than not.

“So, hey,” Billy said, half-jogging to keep up. They were through the main doors and outside, where the sun was settling beyond the horizon. The sky was painted a bruised violet, stars just visible past the castle walls; the moon was full and bright enough to leave their shadows trailing behind them. “Where are we going? Not that I’m not going to follow you _anywhere_ , but, you know, just curious.”

“Trust me,” Teddy said, and his heart gave an unsteady lurch when Billy said, without hesitated: “I do.”

He squeezed Billy’s fingers and lengthened his stride until they were practically running, heading across the high grass around the circumference of the castle. There were still a few kids out this late, though most were on their way back inside, clumped in anxious groups of three or four as they made their way back to the relative safety of their common rooms before the enforced curfew. As if sticking to that schedule could somehow protect them from the heir of Slytherin.

_It didn’t protect Kate_ , he thought, then banished that bit of darkness deep inside himself again. He had _one hour_. One hour in the midst of what was beginning to feel, despite their best efforts, like a war zone; he damn well wasn’t going to waste it.

“This way,” Teddy murmured, turning the corner and tugging Billy toward his objective. The grounds opened up before them, spreading wide and deepening green in the growing dusk, the lake still catching the last rays of the setting sun and bursting with light, with life.

Billy stumbled as realization surely hit him. He let out a soft puff of breath—“ _Oh,”_ almost lost to the wind rustling through a canopy of leaves—and squeezed Teddy’s fingers.

Teddy squeezed back, once more, grateful suddenly that he was a step ahead and couldn’t see Billy’s face. He’d, yeah, _dreamed of this_ —dreamed of being given the chance to take Billy to the water’s edge and beyond, to share this with him. During the long stretches of summer, back with his mother and father in their seaside cottage or beneath the ocean waves, he sometimes forgot how lonely school could be. Landlocked if he wanted company, aware he was someone—something—different, longing and frightened all at once.

The idea of being able to share this important part of himself with someone else was everything he’d ever wanted. And the fact that it was _Billy Kaplan_ …

He slowed as they reached the water’s edge, finally letting go of Billy’s hand. It glowed with dying light, darker depths swirling, welcoming. Teddy could feel himself responding instinctively, that part of him that would always feel safest beneath the waves calming at the soft lap against the shore.

Behind him, Billy cleared his throat. “What?” he began, uncertain.

Teddy turned to look at him, feeling unaccountably shy. Unable to put into words exactly what he wanted, what it would mean to him. Instead, he reached up and slowly, carelessly, loosened his tie. It made a soft _wsk_ as it slid free, drifting to coil in the grass at his feet.

Billy visibly swallowed.

Teddy hesitated, then dropped his hands to the buttons holding his robe closed. He worked them free without breaking eye contact, letting the dark fabric part around him before shifting his shoulders until it slid free. His hands actually _shook_ as he reached up to unbutton his shirt.

“ _Merlin_ , what, wait,” Billy blurted, shocked into action. He jerked forward, reaching out as if to cover Teddy’s hands with his own—but stopped before they made contact, as if he didn’t trust himself to touch Teddy now. His eyes were huge again, blowing wide and dark. “Um, _um_. Um, Teddy, you’re going to have to walk me through exactly what’s going on here. No double entendres either, unless you _really_ freaking mean them, because…” He gestured helplessly. “Because my brain cells are escaping my head alarmingly fast. _Um_.”

Teddy swallowed and bit his lower lip (shivering at the low noise Billy made in response, his own gaze dragging down to _watch_ ), fingers hesitating at his collar…then slowly beginning to unbutton again. He hadn’t considered just how _sensual_ this would feel. How easily it could tip into sexual.

Honestly, he hadn’t even thought—but he should have. He should have known, because even sitting next to Billy in the near-silent library had the hairs along his arms raising, had his skin prickling, had _heat_ blooming in his stomach over and over and over again. And he thought they could do this without it threading through with all sorts of layered meaning?

_I’m baring myself to him_ , Teddy thought, and in that moment, he could have meant in every conceivable way.

That thought had another shiver working down his spine.

“I want to show you,” Teddy said. His voice was unexpectedly husky. “If you’re willing.”

“Uh, _yes_ ,” Billy said, stepping closer. Then he stopped. “Wait, show me what? Your, um, your…you?” His eyes dropped down down down with each button Teddy slipped free, the v of his upper chest increasingly visible. Billy licked his lips.

“…that too,” he had to admit. Teddy toed off his shoes and socks, knowing he was going about this all wrong, but… But in his defense, he’d never had to say anything like this before. He’d never been _allowed_ to say anything. And how strange-yet-perfect was it that his relationship with Billy was punctuated by a series of firsts, all taking place on this very bank? The first time Billy had seen the real him, the first time they’d touched, the first time their lips had brushed, the first time he’d confessed the truth, and, and _this_.

The first time he’d bared his soul and shared this other part of himself.

He closed his eyes as the shirt finally parted, slipping down his arms to join the puddle of dark robe. The _shift_ came easily, like unlocking a door that had eagerly been waiting to be opened; he could hear in Billy’s ragged breath the moment it took hold.

A few weeks ago, Teddy would have been too nervous to shift in front of anyone, much less Billy. The mix of Veela and siren blood made him _dangerous_ as any of Slytherin’s heirs: too alluring, too intoxicating, too overwhelming for any one person to resist his thrall. But over all this time, bit by bit, he’d been able to show himself to Billy—to inoculate him against the gut-deep shock of Teddy’s true face—and now… Now…

Teddy peeked open an eye, anxious. A little uncertain.

Billy was already half-out of his robe, tangled up on the dragging ends, tie hanging loosely around his neck. “Stupid…armholes…” he muttered, _staring_ at Teddy hungrily. Not bewitched, thank Merlin, but visibly _flustered_ , breaths coming fast, every inch of visible skin flushed an alarming red. “Stupid _brain_ ; okay, stop looking at me for a second,” Billy added, closing his own eyes. “I’m trying not to be a complete spaz.”

“I like complete spazzes,” Teddy reassured him, though he closed his eyes dutifully, even as he reached down to unbutton his trousers. Billy _whimpered_ , the sound coiling hot in his stomach. “I like you. I want to, to show you.”

“You could want to drown me right now and I’d be okay with that,” Billy said with a strangled laugh. Teddy’s brows snapped together, shoulders instinctively hunching, and Billy cursed and kicked away heavy fabric before reaching out to cup his face and pepper his cheeks with kisses. “No, no, sorry,” he said, brushing his lips between Teddy’s brows. “Bad joke. Really, really bad joke. No drowning here.”

Teddy huffed a breath and lets his trousers fall around his ankles, stepping out of them—and into Billy’s space, hands sliding down the small of his back. “My mother would kick your ass if she heard you making jokes like that,” he said, still keeping his eyes closed. Mostly because he was increasingly certain the vision of Billy _stripping_ would derail his own brain, as if Billy were the one with Veela blood. “She hasn’t drowned any sailors in _years_.”

“I’m going to assume that is you, being a smartass,” Billy said. He kissed across Teddy’s cheeks, hands busily working at his buttons, tearing at the cloth until he could wriggle free. “I’m going to assume that your family is perfectly respectable and doesn’t drown _anyone_ , because I really want to get in the water with you and just, oh Merlin’s beard, Teddy, don’t take this wrong, but you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re— _moonlight_ , except hot. You know?”

That startled a laugh from him, and Teddy let his eyes finally open again so he could look down at Billy— _fondly_ , loving him; not yet ready to admit just how much—and watch as he tossed his shirt aside with a triumphant huff of breath. He was skinny compared to Teddy’s breadth, pale where every inch of Teddy was bronzed by the sun, but oh, oh he looked so good. He was…

Perfect. Just. _Perfect_.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Teddy said with wry humor, dropping his hands to Billy’s waistband. Billy froze instantly, everything perfectly still except for the rabbit-fast rise and fall of his chest. He was hard, Teddy noticed, fingers fumbling a little on his trouser button. He was _so hard_ , erection tenting the front of the dark material, so close to Teddy’s trembling hands that he could…just…slide his palm down a few inches and be _cupping_ him. He could feel him hot and insistent and…

Teddy wet his lips, dragging down the zip of Billy’s pants; Billy _moaned_.

Teddy swallowed and dared to look up, meeting Billy’s eyes. His blown-dark, dazed, hungry eyes. They were twin mirrors, reflecting back Teddy’s softly glowing light. Gorgeous in a way Teddy wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to articulate. “Billy…”

“It’s okay, I rarely know what I mean either,” Billy said, stepping awkwardly out of his trousers as they fell around his ankles. He was kicking at his shoes and socks, getting tangled up as he tried to get them off, never breaking eye contact. Teddy was oh-so-very aware that both of them were naked save for their (tented) boxers, the golden light cast from Teddy’s body wrapping them both in a warm glow. The sun had fully set, and a cooling wind blew. Up in the castle, candles were shining in windows, but the banks about the lake were deep and dark, private in a way that made him shiver in place.

When Teddy took a step back, water lapped at his heels. He felt a flush of scales bloom from the contact, swirling up his calves like watercolor. He wondered whether Billy would still find him beautiful once he had fully changed.

“Billy,” Teddy said, voice thick. He took another step back, then another, letting the water rise up up up to around his knees. Billy moved reflexively closer, but stopped at the edge of the lake, shivering in his boxers—watching Teddy as if he couldn’t bring himself to look away. So much emotion clear on his face, so much _want_ and _affection_ and, and, love, maybe—Merlin. He didn’t know; he _hoped_ , but…

Swallowing, Teddy reached out a hand; the gleaming gold-and-pale-green scales blooming up his sides, over his shoulders, down his arms with each unsteady breath he took. A delicate golden web was growing between his fingers, and he wondered suddenly, anxiously, whether this was _too much_. Whether he was _too_ different, too bestial for Billy. Veela was one thing, but this, he—

Billy reached out to grasp his hand, stumbling into the water to join him. One arm slid around Teddy’s neck and his breath gusted hot over his skin as Billy turned his head and pressed a kiss to where their hands where joined—tongue flicking out to test the soft webbing as if he couldn’t help but strain for a _taste_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” they breathed together, shaken, shaking; hard. So, so very ridiculously hard, pressed together in knee-high water, the whole world forgotten around them. All that mattered, Teddy thought in a kind of shocky euphoria, was this. Them.

A new world for both of them, and finally the time and trust needed to explore it. “Come on, Billy,” Teddy managed, though it was starting to hurt to breathe, the delicate gils tracing his sides needing the soft glide of water. He gave Billy’s hand a little tug and began to lead him deeper and deeper still. “There’s a whole other world I’ve been dying to show you.”


	12. Billy

Billy trusted Teddy with his life.

It was bone-deep and unshakable and glorious, that trust, and yet… _And yet_ , even so, he found himself fighting a shiver of reflexive fear as Teddy led him deeper into the water.

It rose up around his shoulders now, lapping higher and higher with each step. Billy felt for the ground with his toes, fingers curling tighter around Teddy’s hand, breath catching in his throat. The water should have been cold—the shock of a frigid Highland loch sending him scuttling back to shore—but warmth seemed to travel up from Teddy’s grip, coiling through his body, heating his blood. Billy wondered, in a moment of panic, whether that was thanks to siren blood or to the single-minded devotion of teenage hormones. He wondered if he’d lost his freaking _mind_.

Billy stopped.

“Wait,” he said, tugging at Teddy’s hand. He was standing just over neck-deep in the water now, toes dug stubbornly into the soft lakebed, heart beating rabbit-fast. Teddy glanced over his shoulder at him, and his eyes flashed an almost eerie blue in the gathering darkness. Billy did trust him—he _did_. He trusted him, and he wanted him, and he knew that Teddy would never hurt him, and yet it was impossible to fully stifle the rising gibber of panic. “Um. So how does this…work? Exactly?”

“What do you mean?” Teddy drifted closer, already trusting the water to carry him. Billy supposed that made sense—Teddy was a creature of tides and depths in ways it would probably take years to fully understand. That gorgeous line of scales—the delicate web between his fingers and toes—the soft flutter of gills that made Billy both nervous and excited all at once… Those were just physical markers of how different Teddy was from everything Billy knew and understood. There was so much here that was beyond his experience. “Billy?”

Shit, he needed to get his brain together. “Um, sorry,” Billy said. He stepped forward until he was in Teddy’s space, twining his arms around those broad shoulders. His blood still ran hot, even in his reflexive panic; the brush of their bodies made him shudder. “It’s just…how do I breathe?”

Teddy blinked, then laughed—soft and gentle, the barest hot gust against Billy’s cheeks. He leaned in to press a kiss to his temple, then up against the shell of his ear, lips indescribably soft. “Sorry,” he murmured, big hands sliding down Billy’s spine to frame his hips. Billy barely swallowed a high-throated whine in response. “I’m asking you to take a lot on faith here, aren’t I? I can help you breathe underwater.”

“I do trust you,” Billy assured him—assured himself. “But, um…how? Exactly? In panic-subsiding detail, please.”

He smoothed a hand up and down Billy’s spine. It was funny, Billy mused, sinking ever-closer into the magnetic pull of Teddy’s big body. He would’ve figured this kind of existential dread would be a boner-killer, and yet here he was freaking out over the unknown _and_ still so turned on his head was spinning. There truly was magic in the world.

And Teddy was talking.

“…way to save drowning men,” he was saying, voice soft against the curve of Billy’s shoulder. He was peppering kisses there, driving Billy all kinds of crazy as those big (big) hands kneaded at his hips, grip going tight before relaxing again. _Tight_ before relaxing. It was almost enough to have him bucking up with the rhythm. “We don’t use our lungs, but they hold the memory of breath. I can give you that breath if I press our mouths together and—”

Teddy trailed off when Billy pulled back to stare at him. He _had_ to have heard that wrong.  “Wait,” he said. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you can help me breathe underwater by _tonguing me_? That’s actually a real thing? And not, like, something out of some dirty book? _Seriously?_ ”

Teddy blushed. “It’s more complicated than that,” he protested.

“You are going to keep me from drowning by making out with my face.”

He shot Billy a flat look. “Well, if you don’t _want_ to…” Teddy began.

“Shut up and give me your tongue,” Billy said, decision made just that simply. He laughed at the face Teddy made, letting his feet lift from the ground, letting the water carry him, letting himself be pulled fully into Teddy’s thrall. He tightened his arms around Teddy’s neck and (blushing) wrapped his thighs around Teddy’s hips. The hot drag of their cocks made him shiver and arch, but he held on determinedly, letting trust and love and, yes, a whole bloody mess of teenage hormones wash away the residual fear.

Teddy’s hands slid along the curve of his arse, holding his weight easily. Their faces were close together. “You’re _very_ strange,” he said— _throaty_ , brogue thick, as if he liked it more than he was letting on.

Merlin, Billy hoped so. Because there was nothing about Teddy he didn’t love; there was nothing he didn’t want to spend years, decades, the rest of his bloody life getting to know piece by piece by fascinating piece. “I’m very strange,” he admitted, lifting his face for a kiss. _Hoping_.

Slowly, as if giving him one last chance to pull away (as if he would ever pull away; as if he wasn’t completely _in_ , blood and breath and thundering heart), Teddy lifted one hand to cup the back of Billy’s neck, squeezing gently. He tugged him closer, breaching that last little bit of distance between them.

Billy sucked in a final breath, filling his lungs with a sharp burst of air seconds before Teddy’s lips brushed his—gusting out against his mouth when the heady bloom of _warmth_ filled his body, lapping water closing over their heads as Teddy pulled him down down into the soft murky glow of the lake.

He parted his lips on reflex, welcoming the swipe of Teddy’s tongue. There was a strange moment when water filled his mouth and he could have sworn he was about to choke, to drown, but then Teddy’s tongue twined around his, scalding hot and so very good. His webbed fingers gripped the back of Billy’s neck before sliding up into his hair, tangling with dark threads, tugging gently. His muscles rippled where their bodies were pressed together, legs scissoring as they glided deeper into the heart of the lake, away from the safety of the shore, and that moment—that strange, dual moment where Billy was still reflexively holding his breath, where he was oh-so _aware_ of water filling his mouth, his lungs—passed in a haze of desire, leaving him feeling as if he’d swallowed the sun.

Billy sucked on Teddy’s tongue, nails digging into the solid breadth of his shoulders, as they swam past the shallows. He kept his eyes closed, kissing the other boy urgently, heatedly, taking the promise that these kisses would keep him alive to _heart_.

But then Teddy tugged gently at his hair, pulling him back from the feverish kiss, and Billy let himself be diverted. He carefully blinked open his eyes, ready for the sting of murky water…and found himself surrounded by light.

It was… There was no describing how unexpectedly beautiful it was. They were only down ten or so feet below the surface, moonlight dancing on the rippling waves overhead. It cut through the blue-green world that surrounded him, fracturing this way and that. Light poured from Teddy’s skin almost as if in response, giving the water a strange undulating glow—as if they were swimming in liquid starlight.

Just a few feet below, Billy could see the sloping ground leading down down into deeper darkness. Bubbles drifted from his mouth as he let out a breath he wasn’t holding, stunned into stillness by the unexpected beauty. The pure _magic_ , and he had never lived in the Muggle world, but he could have sworn that this, _this_ was what the Muggle-born felt the first time they held a wand.

This was a whole new world opening up to him, piece by piece, overwhelming in its endless complexity.

 _Oh_ , Billy thought, looking around him with open wonder. Just that; just… _oh,_ his thoughts drifting formless as he took it all in. The light, the brush of cool eddies against his skin, the weighted-down sound, like a muffled train on its tracks. _Whump, whump, whump,_ echoing all around him. Incredible. He had no idea how long passed with him just staring, awe-struck and still, utterly transfixed, until Teddy reached up to tuck a floating strand of dark hair behind Billy’s ear—dragging him back to the moment.

Billy caught his wrist with a crooked smile, eyes darting to that gorgeous face as he pressed his lips to Teddy’s pulse. Merlin, but he looked so _right_ down here, beneath the water’s edge. Golden hair spilled around him in mermaid waves and each scale seemed to gleam with inner light. His eyes—so eerie a blue on the surface—were cast in quicksilver shades, like the shifting mood of the sea itself. Those soft gills rippled with his breaths, and his lips were parted, welcoming, perfect.

So, so bloody perfect.

 _I love you_ , Billy said without words, lips forming each syllable. It was crazy and reckless and far, far too soon, but he _had_ to say it or he’d burst. He let his legs unwind, let himself trust the water the way he trusted Teddy, and took that shining face between his hands. _Did you know that?_

Teddy’s expression softened. He drifted forward, elegant in a way that stole Billy’s breath, and pressed their foreheads together. He didn’t have to say anything in reply—Billy could read the emotion in those eyes as easily as if they’d been this way for years.

He thought for sure his heart would come pounding right out of his chest. He’d never felt more alive.

Teddy cupped the line of his jaw in return, thumbs trailing over his skin, and pressed their lips together. The brush of his tongue sent tendrils of heat uncurling through Billy’s body, and it was such a crazy rush knowing that this, _this_ was what was keeping him alive down here. This was what sustained him. The flick of a tongue, the building heat, the knowledge that he’d give bloody anything for _more_.

He surged closer, kissing back with everything he had. The world felt so very far away, lost in the hush of the lake, blue-green-violet and somehow _sacred_. Everything narrowed down to the steady slick glide of Teddy’s tongue, the way his thumb brushed across Billy’s cheeks, the sharp nip of his teeth as he caught Billy’s lower lip and gave it a tug.

Billy whined deep in his throat, letting their legs tangle together. They drifted, buoyed by the water, hips sporadically brushing together in a shower of sparks—desire flaring low in his belly at the teasing drag of Teddy’s half-hard cock against his own. He wanted to—

He wanted to catch his fingers in the waist of Teddy’s boxers and shove them down his hips. He wanted to see how the other boy would feel in his fist; each stroke eased by water, gliding, gliding, gliding, _fuck_.

Teddy broke the kiss, cheeks flushed, as if he could somehow hear the filthy thoughts unspooling in Billy’s head. He brushed his lips across the bridge of Billy’s nose, then his equally hot cheeks, before (with seeming reluctance) putting a bit of space between them. One hand caught Billy’s, clasping it gently but firmly as he gave Billy a little tug toward the deeper darkness of the lake.

Billy squeezed Teddy’s hand and gave his legs an experimental kick, willing to follow. All fear was gone. All reluctance was gone. He was ready to give himself over to this strange underwater world—to trust that Teddy would never let him drown.

 _This is you_ , he thought, watching with an aching heart as Teddy led him deeper and deeper into the lake—shining so bright that not even the depths could swallow them whole. _This is you how you’re always meant to be._ If their world was different, it was no doubt how he _would_ be.

Bubbles floated around them, skimming Billy’s body as he let Teddy draw him through the depths. Far below, he could make out soft-leaved plants drifting dreamily from soil and rock; the occasional small creature flitted by, and he wondered whether any of the mermen would spot them skirting the edges of their territory. For some reason, the idea didn’t frighten him. That in itself felt like a victory.

They swam for several minutes, Teddy pausing occasionally to turn and catch Billy’s face between his webbed hands, licking into his mouth with a humming sensuality that kept Billy more than half-hard despite the exertion. He had to fight not to arch and rub against Teddy at these moments, hyperaware of all that gorgeously naked flesh—of all that _want_ building in his belly, fed every time Teddy’s tongue twined with his. He felt flushed and half-feverish with mingled desire and awe, so thrown off-balance that each moment was an unsteady _ache_.

He wanted.

 _He wanted_.

And yet he let Teddy pull back from each kiss, willing himself to wait and see where Teddy was so intent on taking him—to experience what came next without trying to grab for more with both fists. _Patience_ , Billy told himself, giddily delirious. _Just have bloody patience for once in your Merlin-taken…_

_…what the **fuck** is that?_

He jerked to a stop, reversing so hard he was lurching back—pulling at Teddy’s hand. In the distance, a dark, hulking figure rose from the bottom of the lake floor. Big. _Huge_. Domed like the back of a turtle’s shell and glistening subtly in the depths. All at once, Billy’s head was filled with stories of the giant squid and, and, and _fuck knew what else_ living down here. He squeezed Teddy’s fingers until his own went numb.

Teddy looked at him, startled, brows drawn together. He shook his head, not understanding Billy’s sudden panic, and glanced back toward that hulking dome, then toward Billy again. His lips were moving, but all Billy heard was, was, was _music_ , as if Teddy’s words had knit themselves together into song. The sound was soothing—made him light-headed—but he still jabbed a finger toward that dome in question, brows screwed up in exaggerated dismay.

Teddy laughed.

The laugh was just as gorgeous as his words, like a choir echoing distorted but pure all around him, and it took everything Billy had not to jab his perfect boyfriend in the side. It was easy enough for Teddy to laugh at him— _he_ wasn’t the one being drawn down into some alien world. _He_ wasn’t the one who’d be completely helpless if everything went tits-up and they got separated.

Teddy must have read some of that mutinous annoyance in his face, because he covered his grin with one hand and shook his head, trying to telegraph apology in the dance of his brows. He drifted closer, brushing their mouths together, kiss gone sweet and lingering and _soothing_ all at once.

Billy bit his tongue in retaliation…and immediately sucked away the sting.

Teddy hummed in response, another laugh caught in his chest, and squeezed his fingers again. When he pulled back, there was palpable tenderness—and wry apology—in his eyes. He pressed his free hand over Billy’s heart, then gestured toward the dark shape.

He didn’t understand what Teddy was trying to say, but he nodded anyway. Teddy smiled and leaned in, brushing their mouths together for one last lingering kiss before turning and swimming slowly toward the dome, pulling an increasingly less reluctant Billy in his wake. It rose from the dim, absolutely mammoth, its edges glinting a subtle gold as they caught Teddy’s light. He saw broad flat planes like the segments of a giant shell, muted blacks and greens swirled together in darkly gleaming eddies. Teddy swam down and pressed his hand against the edge of one of those panels, then reached back to place his hand over Billy’s heart again.

Then again: The panel. His heart. The panel. His heart.

Finally, Billy understood. “ _Oh!_ ” he said, word distorted beyond understanding, lost and echoing around them in a burst of bubbles. This wasn’t some strange heretofore undiscovered lake monster—the tortoise shell of gleaming gold frame and green-black panes was the dome of the Slytherin common room. _This_ was where he had spotted Teddy all those days ago. _Down there_ , through that currently-opaque glass, was a fire and couches and his classmates joking around as they made their way back from dinner.

If any of them thought to make the ceiling go transparent, they would _see_ Billy here, staring down at them. They would _see_ Teddy tugging him close and breathing air into his lung with a languid flick of his tongue.

Billy flushed a brilliant Gryffindor red and buried his face into Teddy’s neck, struck by co-mingled embarrassment and… _interest_. Oh Merlin, he was such a bloody pervert, but at the same time, it felt so right. This was where he’d seen Teddy’s real face. This was where it all started.

Teddy laughed, as if he’d once again managed to read a quarter of Billy’s tumultuous thoughts.

He wanted to elbow him in the side for that, but he kissed him instead. _Of course_ he kissed him—he’d been wanting to kiss this boy for so long he thought he’d go crazy with it. Now that he was allowed, now that he knew Teddy wanted him just as badly, there was nothing he’d rather do.

Fingers sinking into golden hair, bodies fusing together leagues beneath the surface of the lake, lost in the cool, dark, magical world Teddy had shared with him—tongues twining together as he tried to telegraph exactly how much this meant to him.

This kiss was different from all the others. It was filled with intent, emotion, messy and haphazard and _wanting_. Teddy made a low noise in the back of his throat—pure _music_ —and wrapped strong arms around Billy’s waist. He pulled Billy closer, sucking hungrily on his tongue. His hips bucked up once in invitation.

 _Yes yes yes_ , Billy thought. He awkwardly pushed Teddy back, following him down toward the smooth glass of the common room ceiling, moaning quietly when Teddy oh-so effortlessly flipped them at the last moment. Bubbles rose around their tangled limbs, and Billy arched at the first cold press against his back. He slapped a hand down, palm spread wide, _electrified_ at the idea that just below them, people were going about their evening, completely unaware of what was happening up above. It was so…so _wrong_ , and yet the kind of wrong that made heat unfurl in his stomach, desire aching and uncoiling and driving him mad.

He needed—

Merlin, fuck, _Teddy_. Pressing him down against cold glass, glowing bright as the sun in this underwater world. When Billy broke the kiss to stare up at him, his hair drifted before his face in coils he wanted to grab and tug and pull in close again for more, more, always more.

“ _Teddy_ ,” Billy said, words mangled by water, indecipherable. He bit his bottom lip and, daring, slid a thigh around Teddy’s hips.

They’d made out before. They’d made an art form out of finding hidden corners and spare time to trade increasingly heated kisses, hushed by the silence of the library. This didn’t feel any more transgressive than usual, and yet, at the same time, it was _nothing_ like before. There was just…so much naked skin, warm beneath his roving hands. Muscles _shuddering_ as he dared to explore dips and curves and maddeningly perfect abs.

Billy blushed and raked his nails up Teddy’s stomach, riding out the buck of his hips with a choked-off cry, wishing he had the nerve to push his hand down into those tented boxers and…

Well.

He turned his face, cheek pressed against the dome, and panted. Bubbles rose from his parted lips in silvery spheres—beautiful—and Billy had to squeeze his eyes tight when Teddy grabbed his other leg and slowly, gently, urged it around his hips to join the other. He was standing square between Billy’s spread thighs, and all it would take was one…little…thrust. All it would take was a hitch of his hips and, _Merlin_ , fuck. Fuck.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut, hands scrabbling suddenly over the slick glass as his body began to throw sparks. It was way, way too soon to be feeling this good, and yet a part of Billy felt as if he’d been teased along for hours now. How long had it taken them to swim down down down to this point? How many heated kisses had they shared, breath passed between them, Teddy’s tongue a liquid glide, his body seaming close?

He sucked in a breath of water, feeling lightheaded with pure _want_ , and Teddy leaned in (hips grinding maddeningly slow against Billy’s with the shift of his weight) to kiss him again—tongue fucking deep into his mouth as he caught at Billy’s hands, threading their fingers together as well he could with all that soft webbing, _covering_ him as if they’d always meant to be this way.

It was like the first spark of magic, lighting him up from the inside. Billy gave a sobbing groan and jerked up against the hard press of Teddy’s body—too primed, too eager, too needy to last. He struggled not to come even as his body gave itself over to inevitability, jerking, shuddering, stuttering hard as he panted into Teddy’s mouth.

Teddy gave a musical sigh and hitched his hips higher, driving hard against him once, twice, visibly desperate to follow. It all happened so fast, and it was like… _fuck,_ ha, it was like being underwater, each movement graceful and fluid and slow as Teddy kissed him like his life depended on it, grinding hard against Billy’s aching cock, _straining_ for more as they held on to each other with endless desperation.

 _Yes_ , Billy thought, scraping his teeth across Teddy’s thrusting tongue, sucking away the sting, near-frenzied. His body was seized up and trembling and he wanted more than anything to drag Teddy with him—to, to, to make him _come_ , here above the Slytherin common room, claimed as completely as if Teddy had sucked his mark against Billy’s skin.

 _Yours_ , he thought, followed by: _mine_.

He squeezed his thighs tight, digging his heels into the small of Teddy’s back—and maybe it was that, or maybe it was the way he bucked and arched up, but seconds later Teddy gave a choked off cry and _shuddered_ against him. Hard, hard, so incredibly hard, hot in a way Billy could barely fathom. Merlin, if he could come again, he would; even still, he felt himself tensing up in response, breaking the kiss to watch as Teddy squeezed his eyes shut against the fall.

Beautiful.

Billy relaxed back slowly, stunned and half-laughing. He felt… He had no idea how he felt. A little embarrassed and a lot elated. This definitely hadn’t been how he’d imagined losing his virginity: rocking desperately against the boy he was coming to love so much, still partially clothed, _underwater_ in potential view of his entire House.

He glanced once over his shoulder to make sure the glass was still opaque—it was, thank Merlin—before giving in to a boneless sprawl. Teddy relaxed above him, blanketing and weightless all at once. A delicate blush crept up his neck and across his cheeks, as if he hadn’t intended for this to go quite as far as fast as it did either.

 _“So,”_ Billy said, voice still distorted beyond recognition. _“Come here often, sailor?”_

Teddy lifted his head, a single brow arching in question—cheeks flaming red. Billy grinned and shrugged in response. _“Sorry,”_ he added, though he really wasn’t. _“I’m not very funny. Too bad you’re stuck with me anyway.”_

Teddy just shook his head, not understand, but not really needing to either. He slid an arm around Billy’s waist and settled close, lying half-curled around him and half staring up with him toward the distant moonlight: dispersed over the surface of the lake, shimmering and indistinct and lovely.

Billy thought of all the times he’d crept out of bed to make the Slytherin dome go transparent. He thought of how he’d lay in the dark and stare up at the lake, mesmerized and calmed in turn by the alien beauty of this world. He thought of how solitary that quiet vigil used to be…and he reached over to catch Teddy’s hand, squeezing his fingers in silent gratitude.

Whatever came before…this? This was so much better.

And he would fight anyone or anything who tried to take it from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can either give us a couple of chapters of David/Tommy angst or go straight into the endgame. Which would you prefer?


	13. Tommy

“Hey,” David said, jogging to catch up. “Hold on a second and I’ll walk with you.”

Tommy stopped by the main library door, vibrating with ever-growing impatience. He’d swung by after a late-night visit to the infirmary, just to let the researchers know there’d been no change. No _fucking_ change in Kate (or Dennis, or that Justin kid) and he couldn’t escape the feeling that they were rapidly running out of time.

Things were getting bad. There were whispers everywhere of the half-blood prince; people huddled together in knots of two or three whenever they dared leave their rooms at all; some even insisted they heard hissing and banging in the walls. A muffled _whisk whisk whisk_ of someone—something—stalking them through the once-safely familiar castle, and it made Tommy So. Fucking. _Mad_.

He wanted to draw his wand and fight this…whatever it was. Whoever it was. But no matter how hard he searched or how flagrantly he threw himself out there as bait ( _come and get_ this _mudblood, you motherfucker_ ), the half-blood prince had yet to choose him as victim and there was nothing—nothing—he could do for—

For Kate. For—

 _Fuck_. Just. _Fuck._

“Okay,” David said, joining him. He lightly bumped their shoulders together to get Tommy’s attention, brows raised over the rim of his glasses at whatever he saw on Tommy’s face. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy lied through his teeth, half-tempted to take a swipe at David, too. Not because he was actually angry with his best mate, but… God, but the inaction was just getting to him. Something needed to happen soon, or he’d come right out of his skin. “Swell. Awesome. _Just fucking dandy._ ”

David’s brows crawled even higher, but he didn’t push. “Okay,” he said easily enough, shifting the pile of books in his arms. And that just made Tommy all the more agitated. Not just that David wasn’t challenging him about it (that he was being so _nice_ and _considerate_ and _wonderful_ , the arsehole), but that he was so obviously working his tail off to help. He looked exhausted, usually focused brown eyes bleary, darker shadows bruising his fine-boned face, shoulders rounded forward…and there was nothing Tommy could do about _that_ , either.

Glaring down at the stones, stomach full of piss and vinegar, Tommy began walking, fast.

David fell into stride, expertly juggling his huge armful of books, still not protesting. “I was thinking,” he said, low voice still managing to echo off the empty-feeling halls. Most everyone was already back in their common rooms, hidden away in fear. The words hung there, heavy between them, as if David were waiting for something. As if—

Oh. Shit.

Tommy shot him a quick look, barely managing to play along in time. “Yeah,” he said, “like that’s something new.”

The cover of David’s mouth quirked up into a faint smile. It was a tired old joke, but it had been theirs for going on six years now. “Well, one of us has to,” David teased back, and for a moment, things were almost how they used to be: he had his best mate back, without all the weirdness that had been hovering since the night Billy spilled all those messy secrets between them. Without petrified Kate and the guilt _that_ formed deep in his gut, or the fear-and-anger of his every day now, or, or, or any of that crap. Anything at all.

It was just so bloody good to push all that away for a moment and grin back at his…at his _David,_ the one fixed point in his whole mess of a life, knowing that somehow, no matter how hard his inner demons tried, he’d never be able to fuck _this_ up: this boy, this stupidly brilliant, funny, incredible boy would always be at his side. Would always have his back.

Fuck, the thought almost made him want to tear up. This whole year was making him too damn emotional; it could suck his arse.

“Right. Regardless,” David continued, letting their shoulders bump affectionately again, as if he could read the confused spiral of Tommy’s thoughts and was striving, as always, to compensate. To make things _easy_ on him. “I was thinking: what if we teamed up with Granger and her mates?”

Tommy squinted at him. “What?”

“Hermione Granger,” David explained. “She’s in the library near as often as we are.” Nice of him to say _we_ as if that included Tommy. “Potter and Weasley join her sometimes, and I’ve noticed they’ve been pouring through many of the same books we have. I think they’re trying to get to the root of the same mystery as us. It only makes sense to team up and pool information. At the very least, they may have a fresh perspective.”

“…David, they’re like, twelve years old,” he pointed out. “What the fuck are they going to figure out that we haven’t?”

“Maybe nothing,” David said, “or maybe quite a lot. We won’t actually know until we’ve asked them.”

Tommy just shook his head, anxious disgust swirling inside his chest like silt kicked up to muddy the waters again. So this was what it was coming to, huh? They were getting so desperate that they were trying to pick the brains of actual _children_.

(They were rapidly reaching the point where _actual children_ were potentially more useful than him.)

“Yeah, what a great idea,” he said, laying the sarcasm on thick, recoiling away from that poisonous thought. “Let’s take our cues from little shits who’re still figuring out how their knobs work. That’s sure to save Kate.”

David gave him a look. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy,” he said, infuriatingly mild.

 _Don’t be a twat._ As if he knew any other way to be, lately. “If you think _this_ is me being a twat,” Tommy snapped back, “then you’re nowhere near as smart as you like to pretend.”

“You’re upset,” David said—though low, under his breath, as if he were rationalizing Tommy’s bad behavior to himself. _Again._ How many times did they have to go through a scene like this before David finally gave up and just let him have it?

God, he was itching for a good fight, and David was just _too fucking nice_ to play along.

“Damn right I’m upset,” Tommy said, bristling at David’s calm exterior, at his own selfish need to see it shattered. He wanted his best mate to yell at him, to tell him what a piece of shit he was for his inaction, his inability to do anything to help, his… To…

God. Just, everything. Everything was so wrong, and how fucked up was he that he needed it so bad? Needed the fight, the temper sparking off of his, the words that kept echoing inside his own skull. It’d feel a hell of a lot better to have someone _else_ call him a useless shit for a change. “Here,” he said, voice gone acidic as his stomach soured, “I’ll put it in clearer terms: how about you stop grasping at fucking straws and actually use that stupidly big brain of yours to _figure this out_.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” David snapped, and it was gratifying to see him lose control of his temper, just a little. “Tommy, we’re all trying our best.”

“Well maybe your best isn’t good enough.” The taunt was designed to get under David’s skin, and he thrilled at how obviously it was working. David stopped, turning to face him—arms clamped tight around his books as if they were a shield. Or, better yet, a wall between them. A barrier between Tommy and all things he didn’t know how to face: David’s _love_ chief amongst them.

_Don’t think about that right now._

“Tommy,” David said, visibly struggling to keep his voice calm. “Let’s just…chill out, okay? Rein it in.”

But Tommy couldn’t rein it in. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t tamp it down and swallow it back and think rationally, emotionlessly, about all this. Thinking about Kate lying there in that infirmary filled his gut with a sour, roiling emotion—like guilt, or self-hatred, or, or, fuck, he didn’t know. And he was a piece of shit for taking it out on David, but there were no other targets to be found and he was going to go out of his mind it he didn’t, if he couldn’t… “Fuck you,” he said, getting up into David’s space because it was that or start howling at the moon.  He’d never been good at dealing with his feelings— _thanks Mum and Dad_ —and this whole mess with Kate and David and his own inadequacy and…

Fear and self-loathing made him vicious. It made him hateful. “I bet you’re doing this on purpose,” Tommy snarled, right into David’s face. “Not looking as hard as you can, stalling, keeping her under.”

“We’ve had this fight before,” David pointed out, eyes flashing fire. “I didn’t appreciate the accusation then, and I don’t appreciate it now. Tommy,” he added, startling Tommy by stepping even _closer_ until they were little more than a breath apart; his eyes held Tommy’s fixed and focused, so full of brilliant intensity that he could have sworn he felt the burn. Heat licked through him, coloring his cheeks, making his breath stutter, and David just stared him down—stern and forgiving all at once, so much more than Tommy ever deserved. “You’re angry because you feel like you’re not doing enough…and right now, that’s true.”

He sucked in a breath, expecting pretty much anything but that.

David kept going before the hurt could settle too deep. “But that’s only because you’re letting yourself get distracted by how worried you are. You’re beating yourself up over not being able to save her yet, and in doing so, you’re spending all your energy on self-flagellation instead of actually focusing on keeping _yourself_ safe. On keeping the _rest_ of us safe. So please,” David added, finally easing back a step. “Stop making my best mate feel like shit, all right? Because not only do I hate to see him hurting, but he’s starting to take it out on _me_.” One corner of his mouth twitched up. “And while I am certain I could kick his skinny arse up and down this hallway if I had to, I’d rather save my energy for more productive endeavors. Like helping him save the day.”

Tommy drew in another slow, oddly painful breath, staring at David. At the cool, level-headed placidity of him. At the flash of mind-boggling intelligence in his eyes. At the gentle quirk of his lips. At the way he was _still fucking there_ despite all the abuse Tommy had heaped on him off and on over the years: a half-wild thing lashing out because he’d never quite learned how to control himself, and David always, always there to quiet the restless fury in his skull and make him feel like…hell, like he was worth something after all.

Standing there, meeting David’s eyes, seeing the endless, boundless warmth there, Tommy felt as if he were suddenly caught in free-fall.

He could kiss David right now.

He _wanted_ to kiss David right now.

God, Merlin, _whatever_ , but emotions were confusing. “Like how?” Tommy managed to croak, temper soothed again, just like that. It should have scared him, how easily David handled him when he was at his worst. (It should have scared him how much he _needed_ that calm take-no-shit warmth to quiet the raging storm.) “Wanking it over—” He squinted to get a look at the title of one of those huge tomes David still hugged tight to his chest. “ _Calpurnia Button’s Fabulous Beastiary_. Really, David?”

David quirked a single brow, and that warmth uncoiled into a flash of true heat deep in Tommy’s gut. Fuck, but he always did have a thing for Mister Spock. “I have a theory,” he said.

“You always have a theory,” Tommy pointed out. Then, because he needed to apologize somehow: “It’s pretty much my favorite thing about you.”

The words were like magic. That small smile just grew, and grew, and grew, David’s face transforming, the exhaustion creeping away, and _fuck fuck fuck_ but Tommy didn’t know how to handle this strangely full feeling in his chest. He never had been able to, which was half the reason he fought so hard not to notice what was blindingly clear. (This thing; this thing they had; this connection—it thread through his skin and bones until he didn’t know the difference anymore.)

Oh, God. He had to turn away, pretend he didn’t see. He just…he _had_ to.

“So what’s your stupid theory?” Tommy asked, voice suspiciously tight—small and airless. He headed down the hall with jerky steps, barely aware of where his feet were taking him. David fell effortlessly in stride, reaching out to subtly touch Tommy’s elbow to get him to turn. They walked shoulder-to-shoulder as the stairs moved beneath their feet: transient and unpredictable and bloody wonderful. This whole place—his whole life—had become so unexpectedly _wonderful_ ever since he’d gotten that owl, and he still couldn’t bring himself to believe he deserved it.

“…hard to say,” David was busy explaining, easily tracking the changes in the steps, leading the way. This was always his favorite part, and somewhere along the way, it had become Tommy’s, too. “I’m hesitant to even voice it yet until I’ve had time to do more—”

Tommy groaned. “Don’t even say it,” he warned.

David cast him a look out of the corner of his eyes. “ _Research_ ,” he teased, laughing and easily ducking Tommy’s half-hearted swipe. The stairs thudded beneath their feet as they fit themselves to a new landing. “You know, considering the number of Ravenclaws in your life, it seems you’d be more inured to—”

Tommy flapped his hand at his best mate. “Blah blah blah; I get hard over books; blah blah blah.”

He shook his head but didn’t say more, leading the way up another set of stairs. These didn’t start to move until they were nearly at the top, quaking beneath them as if responding to their combined weight. Tommy hopped the slowly growing distance, instinctively turning to make sure David made it safely across.

He _did_ , with enough room to spare, but Tommy still dropped a hand to his elbow…just in case.

David’s smile made his stomach twist, but he didn’t let go. “So, research, theory, whatever. Be as mysterious as you want. But it’s got something to do with the beastiary, right?”

“It’s got something to do with it,” David agreed. “Oh hey, watch yourself: spiders.”

Tommy blinked, looking at him. “Come again?”

But David was frowning down at the corridor, brows knitting slowly together. “…spiders,” he said. “Why are there so many spiders?”

He twisted to get a good look, and sure enough, what seemed to be a good dozen spiders were skittering across the baseboard and up the wall. They moved like the incoming tide, sweeping together in a creepy black mass that had Tommy shivering and instinctively tightening his grip around David’s elbow. “Weird,” he said. “Really, really weird. Also? Gross.”

“Mm,” David agreed, head turning to watch their progress even as Tommy steered him away.

They were nearing an all-too-familiar hallway, the Fat Lady lounging back against the elaborate gilt of her frame. Tommy slowed, realizing he’d begun heading—without really thinking about it—toward his common room. “Wait,” he said, stopping and swinging about to face David. “This isn’t where we were going.” He distinctly remembered thinking he should walk David back to the _Ravenclaw_ common room, but that was bloody halfway across the castle.

David just blinked up at him. “Yes it is,” he said. “You should head on in for the night.”

“But wait,” Tommy protested again. “I wanted to walk you to your common room.”

“And instead, I walked you to yours. Funny how these things work out.”

He opened his mouth to argue—the _one fucking thing_ he could do was try to keep the others safe—but David was acting strange. Not bad, but not like himself either. He kept glancing over his shoulder toward those skittering spiders (now lost to the shadows) and frowning as if he were trying to piece together a complicated puzzle. Twitchy, almost, his fingers curling around those books.

Tommy caught his shoulder. “Hey,” he said, quieter, waiting until David looked at him again. In the candlelight burning around the common room entrance, dark shadows seemed to bloom beneath his eyes. He had the strangest urge to cup David’s jaw and brush them away with his thumbs, but that, that was crazy, that wasn’t—

He dropped his hands fast, pulling away as if burned. “ _Hey_ ,” Tommy said again, changing course. _Running away_ a part of him whispered, but he ignored that too. He was very, very good at ignoring all the things he didn’t want to face. “Uh, okay, if you’re sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He was already edging back toward the Fat Lady.

“Yeah,” David said, managing a smile. It looked a little strained, as if he’d caught on to some of Tommy’s weirdness. (As if he knew, the way he always seemed to know, exactly what Tommy was thinking, feeling, hoping, fearing.) “Bright and early.”

“Don’t stay up too late reading,” he said, and David just laughed, stubbornly planted in place as if waiting to actually see Tommy safely through the portrait hole. That was enough to have Tommy rolling his eyes—who was the Gryffindor between them, anyway?—and turning to the Fat Lady. “Wattlebird,” he said, loud and clear.

She tutted, gaze dragging to where David was standing, blue-and-bronze clearly visible. But the portrait swung open to reveal the entrance, and Tommy shot David a jaunty wave before sliding his way inside. The common room was warm and welcoming and even more full than usual: all the kids too afraid to be out and about were huddled in here, laughing in small clumps as they played games or gossiped over parchments and tried to distract themselves from everything that was going on.

He looked them over, standing there just past the entrance, feeling oddly…protective. Over them, over his matess, over Kate and Billy and _David_.

He would do anything to keep them safe. Without them, he was less than nothing.

“Hey,” one of the younger kids said, lifting her head. She frowned, twisting around in her chair to stare at the wall. “Do you hear that?”

“No,” the other girl said, sprawled across the couch and half-asleep—but _Tommy_ heard it. Coming from the ceiling, then down into the wall: _shhhhh shhhhhh shhhhhh_ , like dried leaves rustling together. Muted by stone, but still audible. Growing louder and louder, with a slow release of pressure, like a… Like…

 _Like a hiss_ , Tommy thought, turning toward the sound. He frowned, pressing his fingers to the wall, skin prickling in response.

“What is it?” the girl said, climbing to her feet. She sounded scared, but defiant, too. Tommy looked back at her, meeting those round hazel eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t—” Tommy began, but he barely got two words out before an ear-splitting _scream_ had him freezing in place. It echoed all around them, high and shrill and terrible; God, but he could feel it in his bones. All as one, every single Gryffindor child popped up to his or her feet, most reaching for wands. Tommy already had his in hand, gaze jerking about the room, searching for the source. It echoed in stone, seeming to come out of the very walls.

No. Not walls. _Wall_.

“The Fat Lady!” one of the boys cried, but Tommy was already ripping the passageway open and clambering through, heart pounding in his ears. The screaming went on and on and on, nearly high enough to shatter glass, echoing in his head as he stumbled into the hall, frightened. So bloody fucking frightened because David, _David_ , David was out here. David was out here while Tommy was safe (useless) inside, doing nothing doing nothing doing—

“David,” he said, staggering across the hallway, swinging wildly around. He heard a sharp hiss and the scrape of stone on stone. A solid _thud_ followed by a strange rustling, like… Like books, falling open. Dropped from lifeless hands. “Oh _fuck,_ oh _God_ — _David_.”

He could barely breathe around his jittering heart, caught high in his throat and choking him as Tommy sprinted toward the noise. It was on a landing below, just past a slowly drifting stairwell. The inconstant light flickered, and he swore the breath had been punched from his lungs as he skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs, staring down the empty void to the landing below.

David stared up at him, one arm still curled around his remaining books, the other lifted, the stem of his glasses between stone fingers. The lens caught the light, winking back at Tommy as he sank down on suddenly useless legs, staring, _staring_. Unable to form words or thoughts or anything but shapeless horror and self-loathing and loss as _David stood there_ , frozen in place. Taken by the fucking heir of Slytherin with Tommy not thirty feet away.

 _It was supposed to be me,_ he thought, eyes beginning to burn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried—he hadn’t even cried over _Kate_ , and they’d been dancing around the possibility of maybe sorta starting some nebulous _thing_ —and, oh God, oh fuck, oh _fuck_ , David. _David_.

He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, eyes burning until David blurred, his housemates swarming around him with gasps of shock and whispered horror. “It took another one,” someone said, just behind him. Then, “Harry, _wait!_ ”

But Tommy didn’t turn to look. He didn’t listen. He didn’t fucking _care_. The whole school could burn itself down around his ears and he’d just be sitting there, blinking away a hot fall of tears, watching as those books David had so carefully lugged around with him—his thoughts, his theory, his _big fucking brain_ working overtime, and oh God, how were they going to solve this without him now?—slipping past the unrelenting stone of his grip and falling around him in a whisper of old parchment that sounded, somehow, like distant rain.

He was gone. He was lost. He was—

He—

He was—

 _I love you_ , Tommy thought with dawning, horrific clarity, curling up around the bright point of pain deep in his chest…watching as David slowly drifted away from him. _I love you, I love you, oh God I love you._


	14. Billy

The infirmary was quiet. Almost chillingly silent. The candles floating near the ceiling held a warm sort of glow, but everything else was cast in shades of bone-white and shadow. Billy was afraid to step inside, lest the scuff of his heel break the temporary peace. (Lest he be pulled down into this room’s still depths and turned to stone himself—and fuck, fuck, okay, he wasn’t going to let himself think like that.)

He bit his lip and hesitantly edged past the doorway, taking in the line of frozen students. There was Justin. Colin. _Kate_. David. And…Tommy. Tommy’s silver hair was so pale it nearly disappeared against the pillowcase, a few strands escaping to brush David’s frozen cheek. He was so still, even in sleep, that he might have been mistaken for a statue himself.

He’d coiled up on the edge of the infirmary bed, curled along the stone length of his best friend. Watching him, Billy felt an uncomfortable tug in his gut. A sense of shared loss, of fear, as if he could feel the pale echo of Tommy’s emotions.

Merlin, but he was so _still_.

A hand fell on Billy’s shoulder, startling him into a muffled yelp. He turned, one hand jerking for his wand as if he expected the Heir of Slytherin to be beaming down at him with a sharp-toothed grin, but it was only Eli. The other boy lifted his brows in question and Billy let out a (quiet) gusting breath. He let his wand go. “You startled me,” he said.

“Yeah,” Eli said, keeping his voice low. “I got that. What are you doing here?”

The question was blunt, direct, as forthright as Eli himself. It was very nearly a challenge too, except for the exhausted shadows on the other boy’s face and the sheer empathy in his eyes. He understood. Better than anyone, probably.

Billy made an unhappy face. “The same as you, I guess,” he said. “Just…seeing if they’re all okay.”

Eli looked past him, toward Kate. Toward David and Tommy. “They’re not,” he said simply, and yeah, yeah, that was true. This final year had started so well, with all of them banding together and looking toward the future and _look at them now_. Kate and David frozen; Tommy a shadow of himself. The rest of them living in fear.

 _Fuck_.

Eli must have read the complicated expressions crossing Billy’s face as easily as one of his huge tomes. He nodded and clasped Billy’s shoulder again, squeezing. “Yeah,” he said, in answer to whatever anxious despair he saw there. Then, firmer, “Hufflepuff’s playing this afternoon.”

Against Gryffindor. He’d come to the Infirmary in part to see if he could wheedle Tommy out into the stands for a bit of fresh air and a break from all this funereal silence. He _should_ have been playing, but Wood had given him an out…even though the Gryffindor captain had muttered under his breath about it.

But Billy didn’t have to glance back at Tommy to know he wouldn’t be up for leaving. Not even for his precious Quidditch, and _Merlin_ but this whole year had gotten so fucked up. “I…yeah,” he said. “I came to…it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters that _you’re_ there, though,” Eli argued. Then, when Billy opened his mouth to argue (he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Tommy alone): “Teddy’ll need your support. I’ll stay with them.”

His shoulders slumped. _Teddy_. Teddy needed him; Tommy needed him. Why did it feel more and more like he was being ripped apart each day that passed? If he could get his hands on that _fucking_ Heir, he’d throttle him into dust. This wasn’t how this year was supposed to go. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here?” he asked, hesitating.

Eli lifted a book Billy hadn’t noticed, tucked under one arm. It was big and leather-bound and looked important. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve got company. I’m working my way through all the books David had on him when he was…taken. Besides, I’d like to spend time with them. For a little.” His dark gaze flickered toward Kate and then quickly away. “Go, watch out for Teddy. We’re going to need to guard each other more now than ever.”

 _Teddy isn’t in danger_ , Billy thought. _At least…not from this_.

He swallowed that back before the other boy could read it on his face. Instead, he offered a crooked smile that he was sure didn’t reach his eyes. “All right,” he said. “We’ll let you know who takes the game. Um. If Tommy wakes up, tell him I swung by.”

“Right,” Eli agreed, stepping aside so Billy could pass.

Billy cast one final glance over his shoulder—taking in the quiet dim of the room, the line of frozen children in their infirmary beds, Tommy coiled like a ghost around the boy he’d never been able to admit meant the world to him—and let out a sigh. He slipped out of the infirmary, each step he took a little faster, and faster, and faster still until by the time he reached the bend in the hall, he was all but _running_.

Sunlight streamed through the high windows, seeming to grow brighter the further he ran, as if he were escaping from a tomb into the world again. He slammed past the big double doors and stumbled out into the fresh air, filling his lungs with the scent of late spring. Throngs of kids were milling about, making their way toward the Quidditch pitch with only semi-dampened spirits.

It seemed not even the Heir could ruin a big game.

 _So…suck it, Heir of Slytherin_ , Billy thought nonsensically, following his fellows across the wide face of the lawn toward the pitch. The teams were already warming up, red-and-gold blurs facing off against black-and-yellow. Billy hurried his pace, squinting up against the sun as he drew nearer. He thought he spotted Cassie up there, small form low against the shaft of her broom, zipping circles around her team with all the lithe speed of a great seeker. One of the beaters did a complicated move on his broom—part flip, part barrel roll—and righted out of it one-handed with a swing of his bat. Sunlight caught in golden hair, glinting off a row of silver ringing his ears, and Billy’s heart gave an unsteady pulse.

Merlin. It was so easy to forget just how… _Teddy_ Teddy was, until he was suddenly reminded. Viscerally. Achingly. Like a slap of cold water, the deepest dark pulling him down down down until the world above was nothing but a point of light, and wait, no, shit, he couldn’t think of sinking underwater _now_ without feeling a fluttery surge of heat deep in his belly.

Billy dropped his eyes and hurried toward the Slytherin stand, very deliberately thinking unsexy thoughts as his perfect boyfriend flew figure eights in the sky.

Thankfully the green-and-silver draped stand was as effective a boner-killer as anything he’d ever seen. His fellow students sat in unruly rows, scowling across the field toward where the Gryffindors were leading a raucous cheer. He could hear the susurrus whispers rising up all around him like a field of snakes. Billy knew—knew better than anyone—that despite the stereotypes, not all of Slytherin was even pretending to egg the Heir on. There were grim faces clustered here and there: knots of good-hearted rebellion in the midst of what was starting to feel like mass madness. Billy caught Noh’s eyes across the length of the stand and nodded once. The other boy nodded back, as if sensing the turn of Billy’s thoughts.

There was something rotten in Slytherin House, yes, but the core of it was still good. And for every Draco Malfoy and Marcus Flint, there was a Noh-Varr and a Billy Kaplan holding the line. Refusing to give way.

“I hope the Heir of Slytherin turns them all to stone,” a sour-faced young girl behind him whispered to her friend, and all it took was a steely glare over his shoulder to have the two flushing and looking away in shame.

There was hope in that, at least.

A shrill whistle called is attention back to the pitch, and Billy set aside his unease to lean forward, gaze scanning the skies for Teddy again. The two teams were taking their positions, Teddy and Wood meeting at the center of the pitch, looking like a poster straight out of Wizard Beat Magazine. (In fact, Billy was uncomfortably certain he’d had a centerfold _just like this_ on the wall opposite his bed for years, and um, wow, okay, he wasn’t going to let that realization get him hot under the collar again.)

The two captains shook hands as Hooch watched, then flew back to their positions. They were replaced by their starting chasers, the two girls nothing but steel as the whole stadium leaned forward as one, waiting, _waiting._ Then _BAM!_ The snitch was released, the quaffle was thrown, and the crowd _roared_ its approval as the two chasers sprang into instant action.

“Oh!” the girl behind Billy gasped, dark mutterings set aside for some good, old-fashioned Quidditch. Down the row, a boy cupped his mouth and yelled, “SUCK IT, GRYFFINDOR!” as one of the Hufflepuff chasers darted past, quaffle captured and already barreling toward the goals.

Billy gave a breathless laugh, unable to help himself. There was just something special about Quidditch. There was something even _better_ about watching his boyfriend play Quidditch, zipping about the field with bat flying, sending a bludger winging toward the Gryffindor chaser’s head. She ducked and rolled, missing the streak of red by mere inches.

“WHOSSAT!” one of the Weasley twins bellowed.

“ALTMAN!” the other called back, darting in, arm already rearing back. The bat hit the bludger with a _crack_ , sending it spinning back at dizzying speeds toward Teddy’s chest.

He didn’t duck away. Billy watched as he caught sight of the bludger and deliberately squared up, shifting his body just enough to take the glancing blow to his shoulder. It looked like it should have hurt, and Billy winced and curled his hands into tight fists, but Teddy barely did more than jerk back before he was dipping his broom and circling ‘round the slowed momentum of the ball.

“Why did he do that?” one of the kids sitting around Billy said, hands curled bone-white around a Slytherin pendant.

The girl next to him just shook her head, eyes wide. “He used his body to slow the ball,” she said, sounding dazed, dazzled, as star-eyed with Teddy as Billy felt. “You could see the moment he decided to take the risk. If he let it hit him a certain way, it wouldn’t really hurt, and then he could get it into a position to—there!”

She pointed down the field, where Teddy had gotten _under_ the bludger and sent it hurtling lightning-fast up toward where the Gryffindor chaser had just gotten hold of the ball. She was spearing her way toward the Hufflepuff goal posts, ready to throw; instead, the bludger rocketed into her from below, sending her spinning out wildly.

The ball dropped from her dazed hands and a waiting Hufflepuff chaser caught it easily, looping around as if they’d practiced this set-up a million times over and zooming toward Wood’s side of the pitch.

Teddy rose higher, glancing at the hit chaser as if to make sure she was okay (she was) just as Wood overextended and missed the thrown quaffle. A roar erupted from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and the first goal was theirs.

“He’s _so_ handsome,” the girl breathed.

The boy next to her sighed in agreement; Billy just grinned, ducking his head so no one could see him. He was prone to think Teddy was absolutely perfect in every way all the time, but he was really in his element when he was on the pitch, thinking three steps ahead of his opponent, using his muscular frame to its best advantage, proving to anyone with eyes that he had the wit and the grit and the drive to do, Merlin, just about anything.

It was pure magic: sitting in the Slytherin stands, listening as all the dark murmurs around him transmutated into cheers and delight, young dark wizards turning back into regular kids again as Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fought each other for the victory.

It was a close thing, too, excitement ratcheting up moment after moment as the seekers soared high, the chasers darted skillfully about the field, the bludgers forged the shape of the game and the keepers defended their goals with everything they had, digging in and refusing to give an inch as the minutes flew past and for one short span of time, everyone forgot the frozen children in the infirmary.

That is, until Minerva McGonagall stepped out onto the pitch and raised her wand.

A burst of red-and-gold light flared from the tip, arcing up toward the sky and exploding out into a shower of sparks. Cheers instantly turned into murmurs of confusion, and players slowed their headlong rush. Teddy reached out and caught a bludger with his bare hand (which, wow, _guh_ ), tucking it securely under his arm as he floated down closer to the professor.

Her voice rang out over the field, amplified a thousand-fold.

“EVERYONE IS TO RETURN IMMEDIATELY TO THEIR COMMON ROOMS,” McGonagall said.

A shocked ripple passed through the students—a few booing, others whispering amongst themselves, still others going perfectly still as if the Heir of Slytherin itself had managed to apparate before them. Billy felt a cold shiver work its way down his spine, mind casting immediately to Tommy and Eli in that silent infirmary. Merlin, if anything had happened to them…

McGonagall was still talking, voice loud and clear over the roar of students, barking out instructions. Other professors moved to help direct kids from the stands, and it was so bizarre to be stuck right in the middle of it all—frightened and angry and anxious, alone in a queasy sea.

 _I can’t go back to the common room_ , Billy thought desperately, curling his hands into impotent fists on his thighs. If he did, he’d go hours— _hours_ —without knowing whether Tommy and Eli were safe. No one told Slytherin anything. No one trusted them enough to. Things had gotten bad enough, dark enough, that he’d be trapped in there _not knowing_ , and Merlin, he couldn’t think of any greater hell than that. He wouldn’t—

A sharp whistle caught his attention, rising above the hubbub of his classmates filing out of the tall stands. Billy looked over, startled to see Teddy swooping down toward him, one arm outstretched. He still held the struggling bludger under his other arm, but his balance was so perfect that the broom didn’t even waver.

Instinctively, Billy reached out in return, catching Teddy’s hand just as he swooped over. The grip was tight, certain, and Billy only felt a moment of fear as he was lifted off his feet and carried up up up toward the highest spires. It happened fast enough, smoothly enough, that only the kids immediately around him seemed to notice—everyone else was too distracted by everything going on.

Teddy twisted to his head to look down at him, golden hair caught in a perfect halo. “Hold on,” he called, his own grip tightening as he used his thighs to guide the broom around the outer edges of the pitch. They dipped down just below the high canopies, out of sight of the teachers and the rest of their peers.

Billy didn’t bother asking questions. He just held on, as instructed, trusting Teddy to keep him safe as they made a big loop around the field and finally started to head to ground as the lockers and Hooch’s storage shed came into view. Teddy squeezed Billy’s fingers once as they swooped down just a few feet above the grass; Billy squeezed back, then let go, dropping lightly to his feet.

Teddy caught the front of his broom and dismounted at an easy jog, turning and moving backwards toward the shed with the momentum. “Come on,” he said, voice low. There were streams of students passing not too far away, on the other side of the building. “In here.”

He glanced around once before following, waiting just long enough for Teddy (the Quidditch captain) to enter a password that had the old door creaking open. Billy followed him into the dim room, taking in everything on a glance: brooms affixed to every wall, bludgers slumbering in their cages, small golden boxes piled one on top of the other.

The air smelled of sweat and chalk and grass, and he filled his lungs unself-consciously even as Teddy moved to the row of bludgers. Billy watched as he set his broom carefully aside, then took the humming bludger between his hands and brought it toward an open-and-waiting cage. The ball fought against him, trembling, struggling to break free, but Teddy was too strong. Billy swore he could hear the moment it gave in, relaxing with a musical sigh before the spell caught hold; Teddy stepped back and swung the cage door shut, then turned to look at him.

“It’s not Tommy,” he said—the first real words they’d spoken.

Billy’s stomach instantly cramped. “You don’t know that,” he said. _Neither_ of them did—that was the worst part of any of this, all of this. Everything they knew all this time came from things they’d fought for. Late nights at the library, secrets shared in clandestine meetings, every bit and breath doled out piece by piece among the students. If the adults had their way, they’d never know anything at all.

“It’s not Tommy,” Teddy said again, firmer, then reached out to pull Billy into a fierce embrace. One hand curled around the back of Billy’s skull, another strong arm going about his waist, and Billy was surrounded by him, subsumed by him. Comforted and protected and _Merlin_ it felt good. “Tommy wouldn’t let that happen. Eli wouldn’t let that happen. They’re going to be okay.”

He closed his eyes, pretending for a moment that what Teddy said was true. He’d give anything for that to be the case—for Teddy to _know_.

He was pretty sure Teddy would too.

“It’s not Tommy,” Billy agreed, giving in to the shared fiction even as he sank deeper and deeper into Teddy’s arms. There was so much warm strength there that he might never want to leave again. What was a cold dungeon compared to this? “It’s not Eli. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Everything is going to be okay,” Teddy whispered in his soft Scottish brogue, breath rustling the hair at Billy’s temple.

If this were any other time, Billy’s whole body would have come alight at Teddy’s proximity. At his… _scent_ , musky with sweat and leather and rosin and sunshine. It would have entered his lungs and curled deep in his gut and made him hard as he pressed into that incredible heat, blindly turning his face up for a kiss.

But now, today, he couldn’t think of anything but Tommy’s form curled up in miserable silence. When he closed his eyes, all he could see were rows of petrified children, waiting to be rescued from some unnamed threat.

“I wish,” Billy murmured, curling his fingers into the black-and-yellow jersey.

Teddy pressed his lips to Billy’s temple, understanding. “I know,” he said. “I wish it was all different too.”

“We were supposed to _make_ it different.” Billy pulled back just enough to look up at him, fighting against the hot brim of tears that wanted to spill over his lashes. “That’s what we promised at the beginning of the year, wasn’t it? That we were going to work together and make things better. And maybe we helped a little at the corners, in the periphery, but in the end what did we _actually_ accomplish?” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “We shouldn’t have even bothered.”

“You can’t let yourself think like that, Billy,” Teddy said. Then, reaching up to cup Billy’s face and make him meet blue eyes: “You _can’t_ give in to that. You can’t see the progress we made as inconsequential.”

Billy broke away. “But it _is_ inconsequential,” he argued. “All year long, we tried changing minds and helping people and showing that we don’t have to be at each other’s throats all the bloody time, and it did next to nothing. Slytherin is still… Kids are talking about becoming dark wizards. _Kids_. Twelve-year-old boys are laughing about taking the mark if You-Know-Who really returns, and nothing I can say is changing that.”

“That’s not _true_.” Teddy dragged his fingers back through his hair. “Changing things, making them better—it’s not always about a single big impact. Yeah, that would be great if we could do that, but deciding you won’t do anything because the little you can affect isn’t worth the bother… That’s how we end up losing year over year, decade over decade. If everyone thought like that, then nothing would ever change, and we _need_ it to. Not just here.”

“Teddy,” he said.

“No,” Teddy said. He grabbed at Billy’s hands, yanking them until his palms were pressed to Teddy’s chest. “Do you feel my heart?” he demanded. “Does that feel like a human heartbeat to you?”

Billy felt the flush creeping up his neck, reddening his ears. Yeah. Yeah, there was no one more human—more _humane_ —than Teddy Altman.

“There are a lot of people who wouldn’t agree. The _law_ doesn’t agree. The Minister of Magic thinks I may as well be kept in a stable, for all he’s never looked me in the eye.” Teddy squeezed his wrists gently before dropping his hands, but Billy kept his palms pressed against the broad expanse of Teddy’s chest—feeling his heartbeat. Counting its steady beats and letting the rhythm slowly drive away his fear.

Teddy drew in a stuttery breath, and everything seemed to constrict down to the two of them. The castle, the fear, the frustration, the loss slithering around each moment of each day until all the hope had been stifled inside of him…it was all another world.

“People like me,” Teddy said, gently stressing the word _people_ , “need people like you to believe, and to…to try. Even if you only manage to move a pebble off the scales that have always been tipped against us, at least that pebble is no longer weighing us down.” He wet his lower lip, eyes dropping. “You never know when a single pebble’s weight can mean the difference between surfacing or drowning. My father learned that the hard way. And I…”

He trailed off, as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish.

 _Oh, Teddy_. His heart swelling, Billy slid his hands up Teddy’s chest to cup the back of his neck. He rocked up onto the balls of his feet, waiting until the other boy was looking at him— _really_ looking at him—before bringing their mouths softly together.

The kiss was long and slow and sweet, layers of understanding settling between them like a new fall of snow. He could feel each hitching break in Teddy’s breathing, and it broke his heart anew just thinking about all the things he took for granted that Teddy never could.

Things were fucked. Hogwarts was fucked. The whole wizarding world was fucked. But Teddy was right: if he just stuck his head in the sand because he’d managed to convince himself that nothing he did mattered, then he may as well take the dark mark himself. He may as well just roll over and let the darkness win.

 _I’m sorry_ , he tried to telegraph into the kiss, tongue brushing against Teddy’s, twining sweetly. _You’re right. I won’t give up on all of you again_.

Maybe their group would be able to get to the bottom of this and help save the day, and maybe not. But he was going to keep _trying_ to save the school from the Heir of Slytherin—and once they graduated, he was going to devote himself to finding other ways to fight, and try, to _win_. For all of them.

One bloody pebble at a time.


	15. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

In the end, it wasn’t seventh-year heroes like Eli and Billy and Teddy who saved the day. It wasn’t supposed monster hunter Gilderoy fucking Lockhart. It wasn’t wise Professor Flitwick or McGonagall or even Headmaster Dumbledore.

No. It was a trio of _twelve-year-olds_ who moved mountains of pebbles and changed the world in one fell swoop.

Go figure.


	16. David

He was aware of a heaviness in his lungs first—a pressure on his chest, as if he’d been punched between the ribs and had yet to catch his breath.

After that came the heaviness of his limbs; the sheer weight holding him down, as if he’d been bound. It took what felt like an age to get control of his fingers and toes again, and that was enough to send him back into exhausted sleep, eyes never once opening.

When he surfaced, the tight pain in his chest was all but gone and his body almost felt like his own again. David turned his head, taking in the soft press of cotton—the murmur of voices in an adjoining room—the hot fan of a breath against his cheek.

_The infirmary_ , he thought, curling his fingers into the warm flannel blankets just because he could. Then, on the heels of that: _Tommy_.

That was enough to have him fighting to open his eyes. It was more of a struggle than he would have guessed, his lashes weighted and his whole body weak. It still took everything he had to breathe in and out, in and out, each rise and fall of his chest a susurrus whine. It took ridiculous willpower to _curl his damn toes_ , but that was Tommy burrowed against him on the small infirmary cot, Tommy with his face buried against David’s neck, Tommy holding on like he couldn’t bear to let go. And David may have relaxed back into resigned failure if it was only his own feelings on the line, but if Tommy was willing to be here, like this, now…

He just, he couldn’t leave him waiting in suspense. He had to wake up _now_.

“To—” he tried, but his lips still felt numb. David cleared his throat and swallowed, trying again. “Tommy.”

He managed to force open his eyes just as Tommy stirred against him: white-blonde hair swung into view, and he would have smiled if he had the energy.

“Mmm?” Tommy mumbled, still more asleep than not. He shifted and curled tighter around David, hands absently petting his chest right above the rapid beat of his heart—reassuring himself it was still beating, unless David missed his guess. Merlin, how bad had it been? How long had he been out?

Slowly, willing his exhausted muscles to obey him, David lifted his hand to splay his fingers wide across Tommy’s shoulderblades. They felt drawn tight, each knob of his spine in sharp relief, as if he hadn’t been taking care of himself. The thought made David frown and push up a little, trying to get a better view. “Tommy,” he said, too concerned to wait a moment more. “Wake up.”

“Hmm?” Tommy said again, nuzzling against his shoulder. He drew in one breath, then another, arms tightening around David’s middle. Then, as if hit by a spell, he froze. _Awake at last._

David arched a single amused brow as Tommy suddenly lunged back, eyes wide in palpable shock. His hair stuck up at crazy angles and there were violet-bruised shadow beneath his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in _weeks_ , and David felt a twinge of guilt for waking him. Well, perhaps he’d sleep _better_ now that Tommy knew his vigil was over. “Good morning,” David said. His words still came out a little rusty, but they were getting stronger— _he_ was getting stronger—by the second.

“Oh,” Tommy said, wide-eyed as Billy’s little owl. “Oh, oh, fuck, you’re awake. You’re—”

He lunged forward before David could say anything, catching his cheeks between his hands and bringing their mouths together _hard_. The kiss was sudden and shocking in its intensity, nothing but raw ache thread with gratitude. The kind of a kiss you gave a soldier returning from war, or a loved one back from the brink of death, and Merlin’s beard, seriously, how close had he come? He was…

He was…

He was supremely disinterested in analyzing it anymore. Not when he could be melting into the onslaught of Tommy’s kiss, lips gone soft and welcoming, fingers sliding up into unwashed hair. He gave the roots a tiny tug, feeling the reverberation of Tommy’s hum all the way down his body and Tommy caught the cracked bed of David’s lower lip between his teeth and oh-so-carefully sucked away the sting.

If he hadn’t been so bloody tired, it would have been the most erotically charged kiss of his life. As it was, all David felt was the full-body thrum and a painful swelling in his chest as his heart kicked its beat, beginning to race. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

He closed his eyes again, sinking into the unexpected glide of tongues, but Tommy gave a sharp noise of disapproval and pulled back to look at him. He scowled down until David opened his eyes again—and even then, he reached up to brush his thumbs along his cheekbones as if trying to keep him awake by will alone.

They were silent, just _looking_ at each other, for what felt like a very long time. Finally, David said, “…I think it’s only fair to admit that I’m not entirely sure what’s going on.”

Tommy gave a choking half-laugh. He leaned in to smack a kiss between David’s brows before swinging his feet off the bed—and immediately falling, weakened legs giving out beneath him. David tried to grab for him, to keep him upright, but his own body was still too sluggish to control. All he could do was lean over the lip of the bed and watch as Tommy crumpled in slow-motion, ass thwapping hard against the infirmary floor.

He blinked slowly, looking dazed, before peering up at David. “Um,” Tommy said. “It’s possible I forgot to eat.”

“I’m calling Madame Pomfrey,” David decided, pushing himself up onto his elbow, but Tommy waved him off furiously before he could call out. “Tommy,” he said with a frown. “You just _fell_.”

“My legs are all wobbly,” Tommy protested. “They fell asleep; it’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ fine.” He reached out to help as Tommy began to drag himself up, but the stubborn git refused to take his proffered hand, instead using the bedside table to haul himself to his feet.  He let out a huff of breath when he finally succeeded, hands spreading in a broad _tada_ motion before he snagged something from the table and began to fiddle it open. _Ah_ , David realized, focusing on the quick movements of Tommy’s fingers. _My glasses_.

Still, none of this explained what had happened—both to make him feel so dead to the world and to have Tommy so, so…

_So wonderful_ , he thought, feeling himself melt back against the pillows again as Tommy very carefully leaned in and perched the black-framed glasses on the bridge of David’s nose, thumbs brushing along the shell of his ears one after the other as he checked to make sure the frames were in place. He felt a little guilty for loving it so much—for drinking it in greedily, like a desert bloom taking advantage of the short rainy season. Surely Tommy would come to his senses any moment and pull away, but for now it was everything David had tried so hard to convince himself he didn’t want.

David gently caught Tommy’s wrist and gave him a tug, pulling him until he sat again on the edge of the bed. Tommy swung a leg around so he could press close, and it would have been _so very easy_ to just lay there and let Tommy lean in and press their lips together again…but no. No. He couldn’t just let it all happen like a dream.

“Tommy,” David said, one hand lifting to push against his chest, keeping him just a few inches back. Tommy’s face was close enough David could feel his breath hot against his cheeks; could see each individual fleck of color in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“You’re in the infirmary, dummy,” Tommy said. He didn’t try to push closer, but he didn’t move _away_ either. That seemed…rather impossible, all things considered. Tommy was always moving away. “You let the…the big snake thing get you.”

Ah, that’s right: he remembered. “So it was a basilisk,” David said. He’d only just begun closing in on the theory. It was probably stupid to feel so smug over being _right_ , considering he’d been petrified. “My glasses are what saved me, I suppose?”

Tommy let out a soft puff of air. “Yeah,” he said, swinging his other leg up. He nudged David over an inch with his hip, burrowing down deep until he was curled back against his side. There was a divot in the mattress and a warm spot on the pillow where he’d clearly been for some time—since David was injured?

“How long was I gone?”

The noise he made was pained. “Too long,” he said, curling an arm around David’s waist.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to be held. It wasn’t like this wasn’t everything he wanted, handed over like things were allowed to be easy between them. Everything inside him was uncoiling slowly, melting into that embrace, and he wanted to believe it would be more than fleeting _so very badly_.

He sighed and curled his fingers around Tommy’s wrist, holding on. Anchoring himself. “And the Heir of Slytherin? Did the rest of you find and defeat him?”

Tommy coughed.

David tilted his chin to look at him, noting the embarrassed flush rising up his cheeks, making his ears go bright red. “…all right, so, what happened?” he asked in as mild a tone he could—and Tommy told him. _Everything_ that they had managed to piece together, everything they’d learned from the real heroes of the day.

David let it all sink in, slowly nodding along as the pieces clicked into place. It was quite a story. And at the same time… His lips quirked. “Merlin, but Eli must be pissed,” he said— _laughing_ when Tommy gently backhanded his shoulder. “Everything we did to try to help out, and it was a bunch of twelve-year-olds who saved the day.”

“ _Harry Potter_ and his friends,” Tommy corrected. He popped up onto an elbow, crooked smile in place. He was already looking much better, the shadows still gathered beneath his eyes but some of the vitality coming back, as if he were waking from petrification too. “And they’re all Gryffindors. Suck on that, Ravenclaw.”

“Oh, hush,” David chided with a laugh. He waved Tommy off, only to go still again when Tommy caught his hand and thread their fingers together. The deeply intimate gesture sent tingles all the way down his spine, and he swore he could feel his heart begin to pick up tempo. But still… “Tommy,” he said gently, non-judgmentally, looking down at their thread fingers before lifting his gaze to Tommy’s slowly flushing face. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

Tommy turned his face away, tucking it down against David’s shoulder, but he still didn’t let go. “Shut up,” he said, grip tightening. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t,” he said. And, because it _had_ to be said, “And I don’t want you to…regret anything you say or do while in a state of high emotion.” Tommy made a gagging noise, but David kept going doggedly. “You know I care about you. You know…pretty much everything about that. And you also know that I’m okay with us just being friends. I don’t _need_ romance from you in order to be—”

He stuttered to a stop when Tommy reached up to blindly flail at his face, knocking his glasses askew. “Ugh, stop, stop,” Tommy moaned. He was curled up on himself, but there was a thread of amusement shivering beneath his words, which was just so… So bloody _unexpected_. David didn’t know what to do with this whole new changing landscape. “You overthink, like, _everything,_ mate.”

“Yeah, well,” David said, tentatively joyful. “Ravenclaw.”

“Yeah, _well_ ,” Tommy countered. He moved up onto his elbow to mock-glower down at him. There was false bravado in the singular arched brow, but it didn’t seem like he was forcing himself to say or do any of this for David’s benefit. It more seemed like…like maybe he was _afraid_ David would keep pushing back until he had to retreat, and wasn’t that completely new ground for them? “Gryffindor here. And we may rush stupidly in,” he narrowed his eyes at David’s muffled laugh, “but we always win the day so, like, _trust me on this_ , okay? Uh,” Tommy added, eyes dropping quickly—up and down like a hummingbird’s wings. “Unless you don’t want all…this…whatever. In which case, I mean, yeah, okay, no harm no foul no—”

And that was how he discovered Tommy made the most _delightful_ noise when David leaned in to press their mouths together; Merlin’s beard, but he was going to have to do that again and again and again—all the bloody time. He’d make a study of Tommy Shepherd, laying him out and memorizing every single thing that made him go boneless and content.

(David was very, very good at research he cared this much about.)

Tommy melted against him like David always imagined he would, those prickly defenses dissolving at the first soft brush of his tongue. He was like spun sugar, but lest David forget the kick of spice, Tommy nipped at the tip of his tongue with a quick, flashing grin—before sucking it deep, _deeper_ , into his mouth.

David struggled to swallow his moan, resting his weight on one hand as he leaned over Tommy. He had the other boy on his back, braced beneath him, so gloriously warm it was like that first forbidden taste of firewhiskey. Or, fuck, no, it was like discovering the magic inside him for the first time, feeling something gathering beneath his skin wanting to burst out.

_I love you, you terrible git_ , David thought, framing the sharp line of Tommy’s jaw with his free hand, stroking his tongue deep into his mouth. The way their tongues slicked together—the way Tommy _teased_ at him, hips pushing up suggestively as his quicksilver hands began to wander—was making David’s head spin. He slid his hand up and dug his fingers into soft hair, holding on for all he was worth as Tommy pushed into the kiss with a greedy determination that felt so bloody _right_ it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

He wanted this. He really, truly wanted this—wanted David—and oh Merlin, he knew a hell of a lot of words, but none of them felt big enough, full enough, right enough for this moment. None of them—

David pulled back with a startled yelp at the sudden quick nip of his tongue. His glasses were starting to fog up, and Tommy was grinning smugly up at him through the clouds: cheeks flushed and eyes wildly dilated, but brows arched in expected sass. “Ow,” David said gently, though it had surprised him more than hurt.

Tommy just snorted. “That’ll teach you to wander off and stop paying attention to me,” he said.

“I beg to differ,” David countered. He let more of his weight rest on Tommy, testing the way their bodies fit together. It seemed insane, impossible, that he was allowed to do this—but Tommy just spread his thighs to make room for him, sharp hipbones digging against David’s stomach as he settled, erection… Oh. _Well_. David cleared his throat. “I am, ah, uniquely focused on you.”

“Nah,” Tommy said. He dragged his palms up David’s chest to span wide across his shoulders. “I could tell your brain was running off in a hundred different directions. I want it all focused on _me_. I figure I put up with you long enough; I deserve it.”

David leaned in to nose against the soft hairs at Tommy’s temple. There was still _so much_ they needed to talk about, so many questions he still had—Merlin’s beard, _boundaries_ they had to set. But it was truly impossible to focus on all those doubts when Tommy was practically purring beneath him, the vibration of his pleased rumble spanning through his chest. “It’s funny,” David murmured, brushing his lips against the delicate shell of Tommy’s ear, “that after all these years, you still think I can focus on anything _but_ you.”

Tommy made a low noise at that, turning his face to catch David’s mouth in a long, earnest kiss. It went hot almost right away, the slick of their tongues urgent enough to have David panting against Tommy’s lips in seconds, his hips pushing forward. Tommy bucked up once, erection dragging against David’s belly, then gave a muffled huff of breath. He pushed up—hard, sudden—kicking one of David’s knees out from under him. The shift of his weight gave Tommy all the opening he needed to surge up and flip David over (tumbling, head spinning, lips still locked with Tommy’s as if he’d never stop kissing him), sprawling him on his back across the thin infirmary mattress before scrambling to cover him. Tommy’s hands dropped to David’s shoulders, pressing down to bear his own weight; Tommy’s thighs straddled his hips; Tommy’s teeth dragged against the slick thrust of his tongue.

It was all…Merlin, so much, too much, not enough, and he felt like he was on _fire_.

“Tell me to…to slow down if you want,” Tommy panted against his mouth, hips pushing up in a greedy little thrust, dragging their cocks together.

And, fuck, he saw _stars._ His whole world was alight. David slid his hands down Tommy’s back to grab at his skinny arse, squeezing and yanking him in tightertighter _tighter_. “No need to slow down,” he said, feeling wild; he had to be grinning like a loon. “I catch up pretty quick.”

“Oh _yeah_ you do,” Tommy murmured, pressing in for another breath-stealing kiss, hips rolling in an uneven tempo that had the bed squeaking and David gasping and, and—

There was an undignified yowl from somewhere near the doorway. “Oh, _gross_ ,” Kate said, laughter clear in her voice.

David tensed, expecting Tommy to instantly spring back and put some distance between them, but he just went still, turning his head to glare Kate down. She stood in the doorway, wearing one of the infirmary robes (a twin to David’s own), Eli at her elbow. _He_ looked ready to turn on his heel and run, but Kate was wrinkling up her nose in a dramatic way. “Please tell me you didn’t know these two were going at it like rabbits when you said we should look in on them,” she demanded of Eli, grabbing his arm and hauling him in. Cassie slipped in behind them, grinning sunnily, and Nate, and Teddy, and even Billy—one hand threaded through Teddy’s, the other clapped over his own eyes.

“I don’t see anything,” Billy muttered, just loud enough to be heard. “I don’t see a single thing.”

“Need me to narrate for you?” Teddy asked, faux-serious, and yelped a laugh when Billy pretended to kick out at him.

Tommy just sighed as their friends started to pile in, Eli ushering Kate to the sole chair in the room. He sat up, white hair a wild shock about his face, still straddling David’s waist. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Making sure everything is okay,” Cassie said.

“Looking in on our friends,” Teddy said.

“Calling a meeting to order,” Eli and Kate said in tandem.

“Trying not to die,” Billy moaned.

David reached up to adjust his glasses, ignoring the fog that still lingered along the edges. “I appreciate it,” he said. He gave Tommy’s side an unsubtle poke, waiting for the other boy to reluctantly roll off of him before sitting up. The thrum of arousal had been successfully squashed, but his heart still picked up its beat when Tommy sat close to him…and reached out to thread their fingers defiantly together.

This…this was the new normal. Or at least he hoped it was. He planned on doing everything in his power to make it so. His fingers curled with the boy he’d loved for so long, looking out at his ring of unlikely friends—from every House, every background, working _together_. And whether or not they’d been the ones to take down the Heir of Slytherin, they _were_ the ones who would bloody well change the world. Somehow. Together.

“So,” David said, looking around and feeling that sense of determination swell within his chest. “What comes next?”


End file.
